


Pet Tom

by MissAnonWrites



Category: Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Love, Pet Play, Romance, but more sweet than kinky, gets erotic towards the end, might seem a bit weird at first but stick with it, role play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-18
Updated: 2014-02-18
Packaged: 2018-01-12 23:07:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 29,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1203922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissAnonWrites/pseuds/MissAnonWrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A peculiar love story. OC is a journalist writing a feature about human ‘pet stores’. A pet that she meets takes a shine to her. </p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

My latest assignment was to interview a career changer who now ran a human ‘pet store‘. The basic idea was that they hired out human ‘pets’ to people on weekends, largely for sex play, sometimes for companionship. My first thought upon researching it was that it seemed like a glorified brothel.

To be honest, when we first entered the corridor lined with cells (not quite cages) it seemed terribly, terribly wrong. Every moral fibre in me was revolted by it, even though I knew that they all wanted to be there voluntarily.

They were a mixed bunch of men - of all ages and body shapes. Thankfully they were all dressed, in plain shirts and trousers, some with shoes on, others not. Many of them wore dog collars. Overall it made me feel uncomfortable. Some of the men were downright leery, so I kept my eyes down, or staring directly at my interviewee and her assistant. I hoped this would be over with soon, and we could retreat to their office to actually talk.

The two women were having a good chinwag, and I was starting to phase out in my head. All my thoughts and opinions about the whole scenario were crowding my brain, whilst I was trying to focus on their conversation.

I felt a warm, slippery lick across my hands which were clasped behind me. I yelped, and turned around to see that i’d backed up against a cell.

I came eye to eye with a beautiful man crouched on his knees, looking up at me with a rather worried expression. I involuntarily smiled, hoping to show him I wasn’t angry at him.

The two ladies had heard my yelp, and were at my side, cooing at the man. But his eyes never left mine. And all the noise (in my head, and in the corridor) all seemed to fade, to dull.

‘What’s his name?’ I mumbled. The man held onto the cell railings with his beautiful long fingers, otherwise stayed kneeling perfectly still, gazing at me.

‘This one is Tom. I think he’s taken a shine to you,’ my interviewee trilled.  
_____________

I had to admit that I was intrigued. After interviewing the woman, and finding out more about how the pets-for-hire thing worked, I was curious to know what it would be like. Scared, too.

And I couldn’t get Tom out of my head.

The next day, the pet store owner emailed me a ‘nice to meet you,’ email, and mentioned that she thought Tom would be a great ‘pet’ for me to spend time with, if it would help me write my article.

She also wrote that he’d been _pining_ in the corner after I left.

I shut down my computer and put the whole thing out of my mind.

Or tried to.

I gave it a weekend.

I wrote the damn feature, to get it out of my system.

I went to the gym, saw my friends for brunch, went clubbing on Saturday night.

I wondered if life would quell the curiosity. But it didn’t.

So the next Wednesday I tentatively emailed the woman back, with some very specific bullet-point questions. I wanted to know if I could ’hire’ a pet without having any sexual connotations or expectations. I wanted to know if a pet could actually keep at least some of their clothes on, if I wanted them to (the woman had told me that in general, pets prefer to be naked all the time).

She was candid and agreeable with her answers, and offered to let me have Tom for a weekend.  
_______________

He arrived Friday evening.

The woman dropped him off at my doorstep, complete with ‘instruction booklet’, and there we were. Me and Tom, in my living room.

He was very quiet, on his knees, his eyes darting from me to all around the room. Dressed in dark jeans, boots, a grey tee shirt and leather jacket, he was ridiculously handsome, and I didn’t know quite what to do with him.

I flipped through the flimsy instruction booklet, which read more like a rule book for some kind of weird game.

_Pets like to be hand-fed_. Ok, I can do that.

_They can’t speak while in character_ \- as part of the ’role-play’ they can only make animal-esque noises. Looking at Tom, I found that rather annoying - I’d love to hear what his voice is like.

_Some pets like to be collared_. Well I don’t have one, so Tom will have to go without.

_All pets are house trained_. Thank god.

I feel a gentle nudge at my thigh, and look down to see Tom burrowing his forehead against me affectionately. I reach down to stroke his hair, and he looks up at me with a soft smile.

I retract my hand quickly, and Tom frowns, letting out a little whimper. He then continues to nuzzle against my leg. I sigh.

This is all very odd. I don‘t know the man, yet he‘s being quite intimate with me already.

I honestly don‘t know what to do.

And so I stand there, in the middle of my living room, in near-silence, as Tom strokes his cheek against the side of my thigh, then nuzzles the top of his head next to my knee.

This carries on for a good minute, Tom persistently nudging against me like my leg is a scratching post.

I felt compelled to start telling him about myself. Perhaps just to break the silence, or to distract myself from this beautiful man at my feet.

And so I decided to show him my art work - some of my old paintings and sketchbooks. I sat cross-legged on the floor, my books at my side, the paintings leaning up against the wall. He crawled up to my favourite painting and started peering closely at the swirling lines, his head darting from section to section, in concentration. I smiled at him as I watched.

Then he scooted back a little, and sat back on his heels, taking it all in. The look of bewilderment started to melt away, being replaced with a relaxed look of contentment.

"It’s an expression…" I began, gesturing rather unhelpfully towards the painting. “It’s not really meant to mean anything. I mean, I think it’s best just to look at it and feel whatever comes up."

Tom glanced at me with a slightly raised eyebrow, then looked back at the painting. I couldn’t tell if he liked it or not, if he was humouring me, if he wanted to say something. It was actually rather annoying. Why couldn’t he speak!

But then he slowly, cautiously, started to crawl towards me, and came to stop in front of me. He then started to lean in towards me, until his head nudged against my heart. He kept his head ducked down, and turned to softly nudge the painting.

I smiled. ” Yes, that’s exactly it.” He turned his head to look at me with a wonderful grin. “I just pour out whatever comes through me. I suppose the painting is me.”

He turned back to look at the painting again for a moment, biting his lower lip. Then he shuffled closer to it, gently closed his eyes and chastely kissed the canvas. I blushed and giggled quietly. “Thank you”.

“Hmmm,” I thought aloud, and stood up to reach to the high shelf on the wall nearby. “If you’re up for it, I have some fun photos to show you.” I leant up to reach the photo books and folders, and as I did so, Tom brushed his shoulder next to my calf. I looked down, and he was looking up at me, eyes sparkling, a wry lopsided smile on his face, encouraging me. Perhaps he was enjoying my babbling after all.

I sat back down on the floor next to Tom, who sprawled flat out on his front, propping his head up by resting his chin in his hand. I flipped through the pages quite quickly, giving him little anecdotes to explain the pics, and was happily reminiscing in these memories, when I noticed his breath warm and noisy near my ear. He had leant in whilst I was talking, and abruptly dropped his head so that his chin was resting on my shoulder. He let out a relaxed low grunt.

“Am I boring you?” I said with a smile, half-jokingly, hoping I wasn’t.   
He sniffed next to my cheek, then leant his temple next to mine.

“I don’t know what that means,” I whispered, nudging my head against his.

There was silence. A pause. I was about to pull back to look at him when he turned his head and gave me a warm, lingering kiss on the cheek.   
My heart stopped momentarily, and I exhaled with a gasp. I tilted my head so I could look at him, and I was met with a very gentle, warm gaze, his lips softly smiling. I felt immobilised. No idea what to do! He was GLORIOUS, warm, he smelt delicious. I wanted to reach up and stroke the hair on his eyebrows, his soft beard, but I knew if I did I would surely then feel the need to kiss him. And how could I kiss someone who hadn’t even spoken a word to me? I knew nothing about him, other than… other than that I loved his company.

Tom blinked, then swiftly turned to crawl across the room to his bag. My brow knitted in confusion, as he started to paw and bite at the bag. “Hey let me help you,” I murmured and went over to him. I knelt down beside him to look. Inside his large gym bag he had normal ‘human’ things - his wallet, ipod, phone, some pyjamas, a novel, a diary, an empty crisp packet - however he was turning these over til a dog collar was revealed. Not the vicar variety - an actual leather collar. There was no leash, thank god, and Tom bent his head down to grasp the collar with his teeth, pulling it out of the bag.

He then leant towards me and dropped it in front of me, looking up at me through his lashes, hopefully.

"Tom, I don’t know…" I began, and he sniffed emphatically at me, looking down at the collar on the floor, then back at me. “Do you really want to put it on?" I couldn’t even disguise the doubt in my voice, even though it did seem he wanted me to collar him.

He bent his head, picked up the collar again in his teeth, raised up onto his knees so his face was level with mine, and nodded his head, the collar dangling from his mouth. His eyes were all but pleading with me, and I couldn’t look away.

" Ok," I half-whispered, and took one end of the collar with my fingers. Tom bowed his head a little, let out a small growl, and tugged back playfully. Ah, I thought. Tug of war.

"Come on you naughty pup," I gently tugged at the collar end a couple of times, whilst Tom playfully shook his head.

"Oh well," I feigned defeat, “I give up". I showed him my palms and began to rest back on my heels.

Tom let out a high pitched whine, frowning, and pawed at my left thigh.  
I looked away, to my right, towards the window. Partly, to play with him. And partly because if I kept looking at him I swear to god he could hypnotise me and make me do whatever he wanted.

I could see him in my periphery, shifting a little, then bowing his head, then I heard a light thud as he dropped the collar on the floor. Then his hand was tapping at my thigh again. I was trying to look uninterested, but my composure disintegrated and I let out a breathy giggle.

I rolled my eyes and turned my head to see Tom, his head cocked to one side, brow furrowed, looking intensely at me. He let out a little yelp.

"Okay, okay, fine!" I scooped up the collar from the floor and Tom bowed his head. I sighed and shook my head. What the heck was I going to do with this brilliant, adorable man?

I reached around Tom’s neck to fit the collar, fixing the buckle at the back. I made sure it wasn’t too tight, in fact it might have been a bit too loose, gaping a little.

As I started to draw my hands away, Tom raised his head and quickly turned to nudge his forehead against my hand. I kept my hand still, palm open, and he nuzzled against it again, this time with the top of his head.

"Okay, boy," I murmured, “I’ll pet you." He ‘hmmm’ed and leant further into my touch, as I started to stroke his hair, the side of his face, along the stubble under his chin. He closed his eyes and his face looked serene. It felt wonderful to see him so happy just from my touch. “You like that?" I whispered. He opened one eye a little, closed it again, and leant further into my touch as my palm cradled his cheek.

With his eyes closed, I couldn’t help but REALLY look at him, while I stroked him. The curve of his eyebrows, his angular cheekbones, the soft curl of his lips, the way the light hit his hair. All I could hear was his soft breathing, and the sounds of my fingertips stroking his hair. “You really are handsome, aren’t you…” I murmured, more to myself.

The corners of his mouth turned up, and the smile met his still-closed eyes - little creases came to their corners. He bit his lip, as if trying to bite back saying something.

Instead, he practically _purred_.

Things were feeling so impossibly intimate, and he had only been here for a couple of hours. The night was drawing in, and I didn’t want to tempt myself any more to be more physically involved with this beautiful man that I was, frankly, becoming enamoured with.

And so, my sensible brain kicked in, and I decided winding down with some snacks whilst doing my nails and catching up on a TV show might put some space between me and Tom. He could hang out with me, for sure, but hopefully there’d be a little less of this flirty strokey stuff. Otherwise I’d wind up in bed tonight clawing at the sheets, needing my vibrator.

There could be no way I would do anything remotely sexual with him. A part of me desperately wanted to know what it could be like, yet part of me felt it would be very wrong. I hardly knew him. He hadn’t shared any of his thoughts, life, dreams with me. Everything had just been physical communication.

"Time for a snack, I think," I exhaled sharply and let my hand drop from Tom’s face. His eyes flew open from the loss of contact, a little startled, then he followed me on all fours into the kitchen…


	2. Chapter 2

Popcorn and Smarties, that’s all i could think of. I knew I had some somewhere. I opened a few cupboard doors to look, and felt a tug at the bottom of my leggings. Tom had playfully grabbed the fabric between his teeth and was tugging at me. “Come on, hun” I implored him, “I’ll only be a minute”. I couldn’t help but smile, as he let out a low growl and continued to pull at my leg.

I carried the goodies back to the living room, Tom following close behind on all fours, and plonked myself on the floor, starting my laptop up on the coffee table.

Tom crawled next to me and rested his head on the coffee table, sniffing the tube of Smarties precariously balanced near the edge. I stroked the top of his head and let my hand trail down towards his neck, my fingers skimming the collar. Somehow, it really suited him. Rather than making him look ‘domesticated’ or owned, it made him look even more wild. I suddenly felt like I was in the presence of an un-tameable, unpredictable beast.

My laptop screen lit up brightly and I browsed quickly, finding the TV show page. As the intro credits played I opened the popcorn packet and the Smarties tube. Tom watched my movements, rapt. He then licked his lips, and his eyes darted from me to the food and back again, expectantly.

  
I took the tube of Smarties and held it up, as if to pour them out into his hand. Tom just looked at me, perplexed, and slightly nervous.

Oops! I forgot - hand feeding only.

I poured some of the Smarties out of the tube into my other hand, and held them out to him. He lowered his head and sniffed them in my palm, then began to eat them out of my hand.

I could feel his soft lips, the occasional graze of teeth, and flicker of his tongue as he lapped my palm clean. I unconsciously swooned, my TV show altogether forgotten.

He raised his head to look up at me hungrily, glancing towards the Smarties tube in my other hand, then moved his head towards the tube, sniffing loudly. I patted his head gently away. “I think it’s time for me to have some,” I said quietly and kissed him on the forehead, then poured a few out into my open palm. Tom’s head nudged to try and nibble some of them out of my hand, and I quickly moved my hand away with a laugh. I started to munch on them, one at a time, whilst Tom remained on all fours next to me, watching intently as my hand carried the Smarties from my palm to my mouth. I tried to re-focus on my TV show.

  
I’d saved my favourite flavour til last - two orange Smarties remained in my palm. I wanted to savour them. However, Tom dipped and nudged his head back to my palm and had swiftly picked up one of them between his teeth. I rolled my eyes and closed my hand tight to keep hold of the one orange Smartie left for me. Instead of munching away at his stolen sweet, Tom raised his head to be level with mine, and moved in closer, the Smartie still between his teeth.

His gaze was soft and kind, yet remained fixed on me. He tilted his head a little, as if going in for a kiss, and moved in til his mouth was close to mine. I could feel some of his facial hairs tickle against my skin. He smelt like chocolate, laundry detergent and this almost indescribable masculine skin scent. I could hear his leather jacket creak as his body moved, and his soft, steady breathing that made me feel so peaceful. His breath was warm next to my face. I moaned and my eyes fell shut. Then I felt the Smartie nudge against my lips, and Tom pushed it into my mouth, his tongue briefly nudging the middle of my top lip. He then moved away, and I felt breathless.

I needed a moment. No, make that a good few moments.

I was almost scared to open my eyes. I felt if I did, and met Tom’s gaze, I would be on the brink of falling in love.

Love! This can’t be love, not this soon.

It must be lust. Yes, that’s what it is.

But it doesn’t feel like lust…

This is just too confusing.

So instead, I kept my eyes closed. I chewed the Smartie, which made loud cracking noises in my mouth, and I sighed a little. What the heck was I to do. I’m falling for him - fast - yet part of me wanted to hold back, to stop myself.

Regain your composure, I told myself.

When you open your eyes, look down to the floor, say something (anything!) as a distraction, then DO something that isn’t sexy or sweet at all.

I braced myself, and followed my own instructions.

"Think I’m full now…" I muttered and opened my eyes to look down at my lap. “Got to make sure my nails look good for tomorrow…".

I carefully moved my eyes from my lap across to the other side of the room, where my nail polishes were on a dresser, and got up. I could sense Tom kneeling back on his heels, watching me. I had BUTTERFLIES. As I stood at the dresser selecting my polish, I could feel a hot blush cross my throat and cheeks. Dear lord, I just can’t even look at him. I’m so scared to fall for him. Why do I feel so vulnerable?

I turn back and keep looking at the little polish bottle as I walk, pretending to be reading the label. I sit back down by Tom and start to unscrew the lid, still avoiding looking at him.

Tom growls close to me, deep and gravelly.

“I know hun, it smells bad,” I say quietly, still not looking at him, and start to paint my thumb nail. “It won’t take long though, promise”. I concentrate on getting the brush strokes right, not botching it up and painting the skin.

Tom lowers his head until his face is right behind my hand, so there is no way I can avoid his gaze unless I move my hand and vision. Too late though - our eyes have met. And his blazing blue eyes are pinning me to the spot. I hold the polish brush mid-air, stunned.  
My mouth involuntarily drops open, and my breath hitches.

We stay like that for a moment - eyes locked on each other.

My body finally remembers to function, and I exhale in surrender.  My fingers tremble as I screw the lid back onto the polish bottle, and set it on the coffee table. I also press the ‘stop’ button for the TV show, which is merely background noise now.

"Tom", I rub my eyes with my fingers, a strange feeling of panic and utter submission rising in my chest. I hear him shift a little, then I feel the tip of his nose stroking against the fingers covering my eyes, tickling a little. I snicker and chastise him a little, shaking my head. “Tom.."

He nuzzles his nose a little more forcefully against my fingers, trying to poke it in-between my index and middle finger. I giggle louder and pull my hand away, opening my eyes. His beautiful face is inches from mine, smiling ruefully at me, a look of tenderness in his eyes. My insides come undone. I feel like any walls I had holding me back are crumbling. Why _would_ I resist him?

He inches closer to me, until the tip of his nose strokes against mine, and he begins to slide his nose slowly along mine, up and down. I can’t help but raise my hand to touch the soft hairs by his temple, and stroke him. A low rumbly growl sounds from his chest, and I smile. I am desperate to kiss him.

  
His nose then moves to trail across my eyebrow, and I feel his warmth breath across my cheek. He nuzzles next to my temple, then along my cheekbone, down towards my jaw, then begins to sniff gently at my neck. I stroke his hair, and find myself panting, pulling his body closer to mine. And yet he continues to stroke me simply with the tip of his nose.

"Tom," I gasp, letting my hands roam across his broad shoulder blades, “please…". He ignores me, nuzzling and stroking the side of my neck with his fuzzy cheek. “I want you," I whimper, and can feel my eyes water - a curious mixture of feeling desperation, love, over-joy, and relief that I was finally giving in to my desire for him. How long could I really have tried to be ‘sensible’?

Tom snuffles an adorable whimper by my neck and looks up at me, almost hesitantly, checking my expression. I stroke his cheek, loving the feel of his soft facial hair against my fingertips, and am helpless as an errant tear trickles down my cheek. Tom watches, anxiously, then moves closer, dipping his lips to kiss at the tear. I gasp, feeling my insides contract, and Tom presses his mouth against my skin a little more forcefully, guiding me down so I am lying on the floor under him, placing his hands under my head to support me. He then pulls his head back to look at me.

I can’t believe I’m crying.

I don’t really know this guy, he hasn’t spoken a word to me, and yet his actions are bringing up emotions in me that I didn’t even know I had. I feel overwhelmed.

And I bet I look great with my face scrunched up, sloppy tears glossing my cheeks and my mascara smudging…

Tom huffs a little and I re-focus back on him. He frowns slightly, his eyes wide and confused, full of concern and wonder. He paws at my collar bone, and sniffs.

‘I’m sorry, bud…,’ I begin, wiping across my eyes with the back of my hand. ‘It’s not you, you’re being wonderful… well maybe that’s it.. maybe you’re being too wonderful’. I sigh softly and start to rest up on my elbows. Tom pulls back a little, still looking adorably perplexed, his eyebrows raised.

‘I feel so much … and I hardly know you… I mean you’ve been so sweet… and I love being with you… but it’s just too soon..’ Yeah, I’m blabbering again.

Tom’s eyebrows start to lower, and he dips his head a little, then moves his head so he can nip at the top of my t shirt, tugging gently with his teeth.

‘Um…,’ I try to continue, Tom’s little tugs and snuffles distracting me. ‘I … so… basically….’ He lets go of my t shirt and instead, begins to nuzzle the top of his head in the crook of my neck. ‘Tom….’ Uh-oh, I’m panting again. ‘Tom, hun, please…’ I stroke my hands through his hair, and then touch the collar,  and instinctively tug at it to bring his head up. He follows my lead and pulls up, so that he’s hovering over me on all fours, expectantly waiting for me to say or do something.

I take a deep breath, and say, ‘I really, really like you. In fact I’m falling for you. But this is confusing for me. And it feels a bit scary. Because I want to open up to you so much, you make me feel vulnerable, and it feels AMAZING, but I hardly know you. I’ve never done this before. Normally it takes me months to open up to a guy…Tom!’

He gently, warmly plants a soft kiss on my forehead, and lets his lips stay there for a while. I close my eyes. His kiss is calming me. I feel my breath slowing. I let my arms drop at my sides and lean into the floor, Tom lowering with me, his lips still on my forehead.

His mouth then leaves my forehead, and he lowers his face a little so we’re eye to eye. I can’t help but stroke his cheek in wonder as his eyes bore into me. ‘Such a good boy..,’ I murmur, and he gently shuts his eyes, nuzzling his cheek into my hand.

Damn I want to kiss him.

Perhaps I’m scared to kiss him because if I start, I won’t stop. I’ll end up pulling his clothes off. We’ll end up having sex. And then what? He’ll leave at the end of the weekend and I’ll never see him again, unless I ‘pay’ to have him over as some kind of sex pet.

When I think about it like that, it just seems morally wrong.

And so, I restrain myself.

I crawl out from underneath him and head for the bathroom, leaving Tom bewildered in the living room.

In the bathroom I hold onto the sink, taking some deep breaths, then start to get ready for bed.

As I leave the bathroom, I call out to Tom. “I’m going to bed now, as it’s been a long day. You can sleep in the guest bedroom, it’s just at the end of the corridor. The bed’s all made up for you. See you in the morning, night…”. I dash into my bedroom and quickly close the door, not wanting to see him. I know that if I do, it will be hard to resist him.


	3. Chapter 3

All is quiet. I think I managed the situation well.

I hear nothing as I read my book in bed, and begin to feel drowsy. I turn the lamp off by my bed, and nestle down under the covers, trying not to think about Tom being in the room next to mine. Instead, I focus on my breathing. In… out… in….

I hear howling outside of my door. Primal, sorrowful, persistent howling. Just like a dog outside a shop, waiting for its owner.

I then also started to hear heavy scratching against the door.

I groaned, got up, and opened my bedroom door.

There was tom, just wearing some cotton pyjama bottoms and his collar, looking sorrowfully up at me in the dark.

‘What’s wrong?’ I looked at him, worried. ‘Has something happened? Are you alright?’

He shuffled on his knees closer to me and wrapped his arms around my leg, purring into my thigh.

‘Tom,’ I chided, with a small smile, ‘you just want to be close to me, is that it?’

He nuzzled his nose against my thigh and let out a low growl.

I groaned, unable to resist. ’Fine,’ I huffed, ’but just sleeping. No naughty business.’ I think I felt him chuckle against my leg, then I started to walk back to the bed. ‘Come on then,’ I said, as I pulled back the bed covers and got in. Tom crawled across on all fours, then climbed up next to me. Still on all fours, he looked down at me, his brow a little furrowed. I smiled reassuringly back at him. ‘It’s ok’ I nodded.

He let out a little whine, then relaxed down so that his arm wrapped across me, his cheek laid on my chest, and one leg rested on top of mine. He was SO WARM. Any tensions I’d felt seemed to melt away, and I came undone beneath him.

I hugged him tight, and bent down to lightly kiss the top of his head. He softly mewled, and sniffed.

‘I’m sorry that I’m… resisting you,’ I whispered. ‘I don’t… i feel like i don’t know anything about you, so it’s hard for me to… but i DO like you…,’ I started babbling. Tom squeezed me. He shifted his head up a little so it was in the crook of my neck, and started nuzzling his head from side to side, his hair stroking against my skin. I sighed.

‘God this is nice,’ I said under my breath. Did I actually say that out loud?

Tom shifted his head back so he could look into my eyes. Even in the dark I could see that his eyes were sincere, warm, and inquisitive. He leant down a little, just enough to skim the tip of his nose against mine. I swallowed. I was falling for him fast.

‘Tom..,’ I whispered, half-pleadingly, and stroked his soft cheek with my fingertips. He just looked at me, waiting. Those three words were on the tip of my tongue, already, and I‘d only known him (if you could call it that) for a few hours.

He just looked at me. Reading me.

Tom lowered his head back to my shoulder, relaxing his body, and gave me a squeeze. I exhaled a large breath that I didn’t even know I was holding.

With that, we soon fell asleep.  
_________________________

Tom was being good. Thank god.

He was roaming around the living room, inspecting the books, pictures, and trinkets everywhere, still topless in his collar and pyjama bottoms. Meanwhile I was gathering breakfast for us in the kitchen. I had a plan.

I went to the bathroom and dragged out two large clothes frames. When Tom heard them rattle he crawled up to me to help. We carried them into the living room, then I went to my bedroom to get the double-sized duvet off the bed. Tom ‘helped’ by carrying one corner proudly in his mouth.

We set the duvet over the clothes frames to create a den. I set the food down inside and sat cross legged on the floor. I also dragged a fur blanket off the side of the couch. Tom crawled beside me, gingerly, waiting for permission. I smiled gently at him, and offered him some of the blanket. He snuggled next to me, his body warmth yet again making me swoon.

Amongst the toast, cereal and croissants, I’d also made scrambled eggs, which sat in a bowl. Tom crawled over to it and bent down to sniff it. He then began to nibble at the eggs tentatively. I pet his head, and leaned in closer to watch. It fascinated me. After a few moments, when he felt safe, he let his mouth bury into the eggs, munching noisily and messily, some of it spilling over the side of the bowl onto the floor, and covering Tom’s jaw too.

I was smiling.

Tom stopped, looked over at me, and nudged the bowl towards me with his nose. “Oh honey, these are for you. Eat up. Please!“ He sniffed in approval. I smiled again and resumed petting his smooth hair, whilst he nibbled and chomped through the eggs.

I felt incredibly content.

All the eggs gone, Tom crawled over to me, his face so incredibly close to mine. His eyes gazed into mine, and he stroked the side of his nose against mine. I could feel the warmth of his breath against my cheek. He then kissed the corner of my mouth - so slowly, so gently, and warmly.

My insides fell apart.

My eyes closed and I let out a loud moan. Tom hummed whilst he kissed me, and I knew that I was a goner.

I’d promised myself that this weekend NOTHING would happen, that this was an experiment. That this would be sweet and fun and silly, but all my plans and attempts at rational self-control were being blasted apart by this intoxicating, vital, gentle man who was, I daresay, loving me so tenderly.

“Tom…,” I manage to murmur and he pulled back to look at me, frowning slightly.

I shake my head, trying to think straight.

“Let’s finish off this food, then I think we should get you into some clothes, don’t you?” I say in a rather business-like manner. I reach over to grab a croissant. Tom simply eyes me looking somewhat wounded and my heart clenches a tiny bit.  
______________

The afternoon passed by well. I went to a casual dance training spot with my friends, where we sometimes practice new choreography for fun. I took Tom with me. He was silent, watching. I told everyone that Tom was shy, so he didn’t have to talk. He seemed pretty committed to his ‘character’ if you can call it that, every so often licking his lips and sniffing, and when I asked if he could pass me water out of my bag, he nearly crawled over it to literally stick his head inside and grab the bottle with his teeth. I had to quickly rush over before anyone saw…  
________________

Later that night, I was getting ready for bed, taking out my hair pins. Tom was sitting on the edge of my bed behind me, just watching. The way he seemed entranced by the things I did made me feel so loved, and I blushed.

Whilst pulling out this pins, I felt a pair of strong, nimble hands at my waist which started to tickle me. I starting squeaking and whining, Tom standing behind me giggling silently. ‘Bad boy!’ I laughed, and twisted in his grasp. He pulled me back onto the bed, so I was sitting on his lap, and continued his assault. I turned, and writhed, and just let him have at it - there could be no stopping him. I was laughing so hard that I actually started to cry, at which point Tom stopped, and instead stroked his fingers gently along my spine, whilst I wiped at my face. I took a deep breath, composed myself, then turned to look at Tom.

A lone tear trickled down his face. Not from laughing though, it seemed, although he was smiling softly.

‘What’s wrong?’ I whispered, placing my hand to his cheek. He nuzzled into my palm, sniffed once, and closed his eyes.

‘I don’t know what that means,’ I whispered, confused.

He put his palm over my heart, and opened his eyes, looking at me carefully.

I swallowed, my heart booming under his hand. If he did feel for me what i felt for him, then we were in trouble. I could easily see myself giving my heart to him.

I stroke his cheek lightly. “You can stay with me tonight, again,” I swallow. “No guest room for you.”

His face breaks into an overjoyed smile, and he pulls me into a hug.

I whisper to his ear, “I can’t believe you’ll be gone tomorrow.”

He whimpers, and squeezes me.

I sigh. There’s something about him that’s irresistible. He has every part of me wanting to share with him, to pet him, to have him in my life. I must be going mad.

And my madness emboldens me.

“Can I see you again?” I ask quietly, and Tom pulls back a little to look at me.

He smiles shyly then licks me happily across the cheek, making me squirm.

I nuzzle my head in the crook of his neck, and he huffs little snuffly noises that make me sigh contentedly.

He lets me go and moves back a little, then takes the top of my vest strap delicately in his teeth and tugs on it, trying to undress me.

“Honey if you think you’re going to see me naked tonight you have another thing coming,” I grin, and skip to the bathroom to change into my bed shorts and tee shirt.

Tom is nestled under the covers when I return, with all the lights out. I slip into the bed next to him and he pulls me close, nudging his nose next to mine and letting out a little satisfied whimper.

It’s silent. I listen to his breathing next to my face, and think about how lucky I am to have experienced him this weekend. He smells delicious, and his body is warm, toned, comfy yet firm. I’ve never felt so safe.

Then tears start to form in my eyes, and my heartbeat accelerates slightly.

This time tomorrow night I’ll be in bed alone.


	4. Chapter 4

I had tried to keep awake as long as possible just so I could enjoy being in bed with Tom, but it was so warm and cosy next to him that my body failed my best intentions and I fell quickly into a deep sleep.

  
In the morning I awoke, my arm stretching languidly across the bed, and I felt nothing but bedding.

“Tom?”

I sat up with a start, eyes darting around my bedroom.

He yelps, and I snap my head to see him sitting on his haunches on the floor by the bed, his eyes peering up at me. Next to him on the floor is a tray with a carton of orange juice, a box of cereal, and a carton of milk.

“Oh sweetheart,” I smile and lean over to him. “You brought me breakfast!”

He leans down and nudges the orange carton with his nose, then tries to open the lid with his teeth, huffing little frustrated grunts as he struggles.

“Here, let me do it.”

I slip out of bed and kneel down by him, taking the carton in my hands and unscrew the cap. There’s no glass, but Tom is making me feel rather feral at the moment, so I swig straight from the carton. Tom nestles his head closer to me, and tilts his head back as I pour some into his mouth. He gulps it down gratefully.

There’s something sombre about the morning. Tom is his usual playful self, nipping at my trouser legs when I walk past, nudging his face into my hands whenever he gets the chance.

But there’s something hanging in the air.

Something that gets worse and worse as 1pm approaches.

My moods and actions are swinging from one extreme to the other. I’m either glumly petting Tom, whispering to him that he’s a good boy while he looks at me sadly. Or I’m dashing around the house like a crazy ho, cleaning and tidying and checking my emails to distract myself.

The doorbell rings just before one. Me and Tom whip our heads round to look at each other. I feel my whole body deflate, shoulders sunk. Tom merely whimpers and hangs his head.

The woman from the pet store was in a very jovial mood, asking me if I’d enjoyed the experience and had Tom been good, and started to waffle on about how my feature had led to her having a few more enquiries about her ‘service’.

Tom knelt sadly at my side, fully dressed, although still wearing his collar. Every now and then as the woman spoke he would nudge the side of his head against my leg, and I’d lean my hand down to stroke his hair.

“Well I’m glad to hear you had a good time, didn’t you Thomas?” The woman leans down a little to coo at him, and he backs up a little, hiding behind my legs.

“Now now, be good, time to go,” she sounds very much like a head teacher.

She leans in to me and whispers, “I might have to use the lead on him.”

My eyes bulge.

“Don’t worry dear, it doesn’t hurt him.”

Tom peeks up from the side of my leg, practically pleading with his eyes.

“Or are you going to be a good boy, eh?” The woman talks down to him. Tom sniffles and bows his head submissively.

“Ok then.” The woman turns to me. “Good to see you again, and if you’re ever in the neighbourhood do drop by to say hello.”

She turns to open the front door, and Tom begins sadly trailing after her, looking back at me.

“Oh baby,” I murmur.

Tom suddenly stops, and starts scratching his head from side to side against the collar. He yelps a little, making the woman turn to attend to him.

“That means he wants his collar off,” she mumbles as bends down to undo it. She then places it between his teeth, straightens herself up, gives me a smile and wave, then heads out of the open doorway.

  
Tom turns to face me, and quickly crawls to my feet, dropping the collar on the floor.

“Tom?” I whisper.

He winks and gives me a small smile, then dashes out of the door, rising to human height as he crosses the threshold out into the sunlight.


	5. Chapter 5

Sunday afternoon, my mind went into overdrive.

_Denial._

Everything he did over the weekend was part of some ‘pet store package’. He’s probably done it with countless women, for countless amounts of money. There were no true feelings there. How could there be.

_Self-blame._

I’m so stupid for falling for ‘an act’. So easily duped by the first guy who’s given me any attention in months. No, make that years. So gullible.

_Anger._

How dare he leave his collar here! He was totally playing up when the woman came to collect him, making it even harder for me. What a cad. Why couldn’t he have just quietly left?

_Honesty._

I love him.  
________________________________________________

The week started dully. Boring copywriting deadlines to meet, a re-write of an old article, me tethered to my laptop.

I’d put Tom’s collar on my desk next to me. At first I liked having it near me,  but then it became a painful reminder of how much I missed him. Then I got angry at myself. Then I slammed the damn collar into the desk drawer and pretended it wasn’t there.

Then at Wednesday lunchtime I guiltily took it out to look at. Then told myself to stop being a sap, and strode purposefully to my wardrobe, shoving the collar into a shoe box.

_________________________________________________

After hiding said collar in said box, I lasted a whole 24 hours.

Thursday lunchtime I sent an email to the pet store, asking if Tom was available this weekend.

Shortly after, I got a ping in my inbox from them saying he was booked out for the weekend, and wouldn’t be available for the foreseeable future.

I gulped. So that’s that, then.

No more Tom.  
___________________________

Friday evenings are usually my ‘sanctuary’ evenings. I committedly spend every Friday evening doing some yoga, having a bath, cooking a hearty meal, and generally look after myself for a bit.

God knows I needed it.

Since getting the ‘you can’t see Tom again’ email, I’d managed to shove Tom to the back recesses of my mind, in a box marked ‘do not open’, by ploughing steadily into work, and going to the gym.

However, going full-on with my writing and work-outs had left me feeling both mentally and physically worn down.

Wrapped in clean bed wear, smelling of rose and vanilla bath foam, I snuggled contentedly onto my sofa, a fresh cup of fruit tea beginning to cool on the coffee table. Next to my tea was a fresh copy of Vogue. I was looking forward to turning my brain off and just looking at the vibrant fashion spreads.

“Brrrrrrrrrrrrring,” rasped the doorbell.

I harrumphed, and looked at the clock above the fireplace. 9pm. Wasn’t expecting visitors. Too late for Jehovah’s Witness, sales people, or charity collectors. Maybe it’s a neighbour… guess I should get the door.

I amble into the hallway and tentatively open the door, feeling a cool burst of air breeze over me.

Tom kneels in the porch, his gym bag at his side, with a note in his mouth, blinking up at me. He’s wearing faded grey jeans, a white t shirt and his leather jacket.

He looks more stunning than I remember. All the mental angst that had been ricocheting around my head the past week seems to disappear. I’m so glad to see him.

“Tom! Hun, what are you doing here? The store told me you… I thought you were with someone else this weekend?”

Tom shuffles forward, tilting his head up with the paper in his mouth, then drops it at my feet, and sniffs it emphatically.

“Okay then…,” I bend to pick it up, then look at him again. He nudges his head against my arm with his cheek affectionately, and sniffs my skin, making me squeal inside.  He then sits up, his arms tightly braced next to his sides, and he shifts a bit.

“Let’s get you out of this chill,“ I motion for him to come inside.

Tom turns to his gym bag and starts tugging at its handle with his teeth, trying to drag it along with him.

“Baby I’ll get that,” I mutter gently, and stroke his head. “Get inside, I’ll be right behind you.”

I go to pick up the bag and it feels pretty heavy. “What have brought this time, you naughty pup?” I chuckle. “Bricks?”

Tom yelps and crawls into my hallway. I walk behind him, dumping the heavy gym bag on the floor and closing the door behind us.

Tom kneels back on his heels, just watching me. His expression is soft, his lips slightly curling into a smile, but otherwise quite unreadable.

I unfold the note in my hands. It’s a hand-written letter, in spiraling black ink. There’s two pages to it, and my eyes dart over the last line - “ _all my love, Tom_ ”.

I exhale forcefully. My curiosity is certainly piqued.

I stumble over to the staircase and sit on the lowest steps to read.


	6. Chapter 6

_I hope you don’t  mind me turning up unannounced like this. The store wouldn’t give me your phone number - apparently it’s part of ‘client confidentiality’._

_I also hope you’re not too angry… I booked myself in to visit you this weekend. I thought you might like to see me, after last weekend… I hope you enjoyed it? To be honest I’m not sure if I’m doing this ‘pet’ thing very well. You seemed to like it. I hope you did. I really do._

 

_You were sweet, playful, honest, and gentle with me. Your kindness really touched me._

_It almost broke my heart to see you fighting with yourself about whether to trust me or not. I know it must be awfully strange to be intimate with a near-stranger. There were so many times I wanted to talk to you, to reassure you, to explain… but I had to stay in character._

_I’ve brought some things of mine with me to share with you this time, so you can get to know me better, if you wish._

_Well, there’s no easy way to say this, so here goes:  I’m an actor by trade, and this whole pet thing is part of my research for a role. Rehearsals start in just over a week, so not long to go now. Then, if you’d like to, we can talk, properly. There are so many things I want to tell you…_

_I’ve only ever tried out this ‘pet play’ once before - the weekend before ours, when I was ‘placed’ with an actress - but that didn’t work out too well. I got sent home on the Saturday. She was enjoying being in charge a little too much - far too bossy - and it made it hard for me to stay in character. I didn’t find it artistically… inspiring._

_So I asked if there was any way I could be placed with someone more…. I don’t know…. naive? Someone who hadn’t experienced being with a pet before, who would be as new and, well, as clueless as I was._

_The pet store owner mentioned you would be visiting to do a story and could be a good candidate. I confess I googled you, and found your website. I couldn’t stop exploring it. I loved reading your work. And your blog entries…_

_The more I read about you the more intrigued I was. So when you finally came to the pet store, I hoped you would maybe like me. I daresay I also asked the pet store owner to coax you into taking me on._

_I would much rather research this role with a pretty, intelligent, sensitive woman than anyone else - certainly not a scary veteran of the pet play scene , or another overly-dramatic actress who thinks it‘s an excuse to pretend to be a dominatrix._

_Last weekend, with you, was more than I could have hoped for. I felt incredibly safe to explore ‘being a pet’._

_And, in truth, the more time I spent with you, the more I learnt about you, the more you shared with me, the more I wanted to be close to you. I didn’t expect to fall for you quite the way I did._

_I like you. And, for what it’s worth, I haven’t stopped thinking about you all week._

_If you’d like me to leave you alone and go home tonight, I will understand. But I really do hope you’ll let me stay this weekend for a little more pet madness. Or if not the whole weekend then maybe a day, or an evening, or an hour. Whatever I can get._

_I’ve missed you._

_Thank you again._

_All my love,_

_Tom_

_____________________________

TOM’S POV

I watched her carefully, my heart racing, trying to read her expression. I’ve never felt so scared in my life.

I want her to… no, I _need_ her to know that I genuinely care about her, that I want her to let me in to her heart, as I have let her in to mine.

So I quietly crawl over to her while she reads, nuzzling under the letter in her hand, and lay my head on her lap.

She strokes my hair thoughtfully, and I sigh lightly.

Thank god. She doesn’t hate me.

“Hey,” she whispers, distracted, and continues reading.

I sniff my ‘hello’ back at her and shift my head so my nose is by her wrist. I start stroking her there with the tip of my nose, and she hums happily.

I then remember I have a print out of my Wikipedia page in my bag, so I slip from her lap and crawl to the bag, taking the zipper in my teeth and tug to open it.

“Tom, what are you doing?” I hear her soft voice behind me, as I root around the bag with my head, pulling out a folded sheet of paper between my teeth.

I crawl back to her and lay my head in her lap, the folded paper still in my mouth.

“What’s this…?” she murmurs and takes it from my teeth. I venture to look up at her, and she looks bemused more than anything. Certainly bemused. Not angry or sad or upset. _You’re doing okay, Tom._

She unfolds the paper and scans the Wikipedia print out, silently.   
I look up at her, waiting to see how she reacts. Waiting to see if she recognises me. I wonder if that will change things, if she’s seen me in anything. If the penny drops and she recognises me as Loki. And if she does, would that change things? Would she change her behaviour towards me? I hope not. I really hope not.

I close my eyes and bury my face into the top side of her thigh.   
She’s not saying anything. Ugh, this is positively _unbearable_. Please say something, sweetheart….

“Wow,” she mumbles, and I hear the paper rustle. “You’ve been in some major things, Tom.”

I look up at her.

“No need to look embarrassed,” she smiles, and strokes my cheek with her fingertip. “I’m sure you’re very good. Can’t say I’ve seen any of these films, but I’m sure I’ve seen posters for The Avengers.”

I try to bite back a giggle. _She doesn’t know who I am_. No pre-conceptions, no weirdness, no changing how she views me. _Thank you_.

Her body tenses a little as she gets more animated. “Oh my god you’ve worked with Robert Downey Junior, he’s so cool!”

I furrow my brow a little. What is it with women and that man? I yelp in protest.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she pats my head. “Not as cool as you though.”

I rest my head back in her lap with a grizzly growl, and wrap an arm around her side, squeezing her to me.

“So you’re an actor, huh?” Her voice is playful. I sniff, and squeeze her again.

I feel her slim fingers under my chin, and she begins to tilt my head up carefully to look at her. I happily meet her gaze. Her face is warm, curious, ever-honest, and welcoming.

“It’s okay. In fact it’s _more_ than okay. It’s brilliant.”

Really? I raise an eyebrow, incredulous.

“Oh Tom,” she chuckles and glides a finger across my arched brow. “I honestly thought…” She’s struggling with her words, and I want to help her out, because I think I know what she wants to say.

“I thought you were, like, a… ‘pet’ for real, you know? That every weekend you got rented out to some new woman, who would enjoy you, and that everything you did with me last weekend is the same thing you’d do with every other woman. So I wondered if all my feelings were based on lies…” Her voice falters a little, and I whimper.

“I can’t stand lies…” she says softly. “I wasn’t sure if all the things I thought you seemed to feel were fake, too.”

I kneel up and clamp my arms around her, pulling her to me as tightly as I can without hurting her.

I wish she could feel these loving emotions surging through my body.

I wish she could see that every thing I do around her, _every thing_ , is true and honest and earnest and sincere.

She slowly puts her arms around me, and nudges her head next to mine, resting her chin on my shoulder. I purr, hoping to soothe her.

After a few moments, she pulls back to look at me.

She chews on her bottom lip, and I can tell she’s wrestling with herself again. To trust me, to believe me, or not. Wanting to believe that all the feelings I have for her are real, yet holding back, doubting,unsure, not wanting to get hurt.

_I could never hurt you, angel_.

It pains me to see her like this.

And so I will do all I can to reassure her. And this will have to do until I can be ‘human’ around her. _  
_


	7. Chapter 7

TOM’s POV

I blink back at her, _willing_ her to somehow ‘see’ how I feel in my eyes, then start to edge in for a kiss.

I don’t want to scare her, so I hold still for a moment, still looking in her eyes, waiting for permission.

Her lips part in anticipation, and something stirs deep within me. Unbridled attraction. Yet in her eyes I can tell she’s still unsure. Scared to change things between us.

And so, I shift closer and press my lips to hers feather-light, chastely.

She moans.

I press a little firmer, hoping it feels reassuring rather than sexual, and back away, watching her carefully as she opens her eyes.

Her chest is rising and falling, and she looks away, blushing.

_You look so beautiful when you blush._

She keeps her head dropped, unable to look at me.

I desperately want her to look at me. I need her to know it’s okay, that I’m not going to push her on this. I’m not trying to bed her, or overpower her, or do anything she doesn’t want me to do.

I just want her to know how much I care for her.

So I paw at her knee with my hand, hoping she’ll look my way.

She doesn’t.

Brow furrowed, thinking. _I know that look_. She’s wrestling with her feelings again. I need to break her out of her thoughts, they can only be creating confusion for her.

So I crawl over to my bag again, and pull out my photo album. I return to her and nudge it against her hands persistently, until she looks at me.

Her eyes are softer, kinder, confusion gone, I think. I _hope_.

“What’s this?” she whispers, and briefly flicks through it, her eyes lighting up. She looks at me shyly, with a small smile. “Let’s take a look.”

She strokes my hair, and stands up,  moving to the living room, where she lies on the floor, the photo album in front of her. I crawl up next to her and lie down, keeping a couple of inches of space between us.

She smiles, giggles, frowns and sighs as her eyes rove over the images. There’s some very old ones of me, back from my teenage years, that she ‘awws’ over. She looks at pictures of me whilst at uni, when I was experimenting with how I dress and have my hair. There were plenty of ‘look at you!’s and giggles for those. I closed my eyes and rested my head in my hands. Far too embarrassing.

I felt her gently pat my head.

Onwards she went, to the images of me abroad, in trailers, in various costumes, backstage, with alcohol-tempered wonky eyes at parties, suited at friends weddings, at sporting events, grinning goofily with my family with a candled birthday cake in front of me.

My life.

It’s not the sort of thing I’d ordinarily show a girlfriend or, well, someone I’d like to be involved with. Not so soon. Especially not the younger pictures of me. I was clueless back then.

But as soon as she had shown me her photos, on that first evening we’d spent together, I knew I had to share mine with her. And I knew she wouldn’t laugh at me, or judge me, or feel intimidated by the images of me with a few A-Listers. Lord knows she had had a full life too, judging by what she’d shown me. I felt safe to be open with her. And that was a true blessing.

“Well, Thomas,” she closes the photo album and looks at me, smiling. “Thank you.”

She leans closer to me and kisses me on the forehead. I feel my heart swell.

“I mean it,” she whispers against my skin, and strokes my hair contentedly.

All I can do is sniffle a response, and nudge my shoulder against hers.

“Are you hungry?” she asks quietly.

I shake my head, then take a strand of her hair between my teeth and tug it playfully, making her giggle.

“No you can’t eat me, sweetheart,” she shifts onto her knees. “But it is getting late. We should probably go to bed…,”

She stops in her tracks, her mind in deep thought. I rise from the floor to all fours and nudge my forehead against her shoulder.

“Uh,” she shakes her head, coming back to the present. “Sorry, I just remembered something…,”

She stands quickly and rushes out of the door, calling back to me, “hang on, let me just get it.”

?

I look around her living room while I wait. How I’d missed being able to see her vibrant paintings. And I remember when we built a den for breakfast in here. And over there, by the coffee table, we‘d laid together on the floor, when I thought she might want to kiss me. Instead she had started to cry.

“Are you okay?” she pads into the room, my collar in her hand, looking down at me with concern.

I swallow, trying to forget the memories of her in tears, and crawl over to her, wrapping an arm around her legs to hug her.

She pets my hair, and I sigh contentedly, emitting a little growl.

  
“I kept your collar,” she says, and I can hear the smile in her voice.

I kneel up, trying to snap playfully at the collar with my teeth.

She laughs and holds the collar out at arm’s length. “Calm down, Tom,” she gasps between giggles. She strokes along my goatee hairs, and I swiftly manage to turn and lick her hand, making her squeal.

It is the most divine sound I’ve ever heard.

I smile up at her, and she smiles warmly back at me.

I want to make her giggle.

_I want her to be happy._

I want her to be open to every thing I do to show her that I care, without doubt, with pure trust and open embrace.  I think maybe she’s opening to me. Maybe. Just maybe. I feel hopeful.

I nod slightly, then bow my head, signalling her to put the collar on me. I think, despite her initial reservations, she finds the collar quite sweet. It certainly helps me stay in character.

I feel her fingers lightly brush at the back of my neck while she fastens it, and she trails her fingers along to my jaw line, stroking me there. I lean into her touch, and shift to run my nose along her palm. She sighs, softly, and I smile.

“I want you to stay this weekend, if that’s okay with you?”

I look up at her, and she’s biting her lip, nervously.

I nudge my head to her belly, and start rolling my head under the hem of her vest.

“Tom!” she exclaims, and I keep nudging until my head is covered in fabric, resting my cheek against her soft, warm stomach. She pats my head through the cotton, and sighs. “What the hell am I going to do with you…”

______________

She seems more relaxed, somehow.

We’re both in her bathroom. I’m sitting quite human-like on the closed seat of her toilet, while she stands brushing her teeth at the sink next to me. Every now and then her eyes will flicker over to me.

I’d brought a small bag with my toothbrush, deodorant, face wash and flannel with me, which now balances on the edge of the sink. I sniff at it, to draw her attention to it.

She finishes cleaning her teeth, and opens up the little bag, peering inside.

“Toothbrush?” she asks, raising a quizzical eyebrow at me.

I shake my head. I’ll do that on my own.

“Hmm,” she pulls out the deodorant.

I shake my head again, firmly.

She takes out my face wash and I yelp. I think this would be quite intimate. I’d love her to wash me, so I can look in her eyes while she does it.

She smiles, and takes out the flannel, setting it on the side.

She then squirts a small blob of face wash into her palm, running her hand under the warm tap, and lathers the face wash between her palms.

She turns to me, bending slightly, and carefully starts to stroke it across my cheeks, then my forehead, then the length of my nose, her fingers gliding smoothly over me. It feels quite… erotic.

I sit still, quiet, watching her. She smells of spearmint and vanilla. She has three moles in a row that run along the side of her neck. Her hair frames her face prettily, and her eyes seem so focused on me. Every now and then she shifts her gaze from my eyes to my cheek or my forehead or chin.  When she opens her mouth a little in concentration, I want to reach forward to kiss her, but I don’t.

_Come closer…. Please, come closer._

She takes the flannel, soaks it in warm water, and begins to brush it gently across my skin. I close my eyes briefly and lean into it. I unconsciously purr.

Once finished, she quickly washes the flannel and sets it on the radiator to dry. She then turns back to me, and thoughtfully strokes my face with her fingertips. I noisily smack my lips together, as if about to eat a big steak, to make her laugh.

Her body shudders as she giggles, and she leans closer to me, her face inches from mine. Her breath is cool and minty, making me lick my lips. She giggles again, and quietly moans my name.

I feel my heart swelling in my chest.

_Is she going to ….? I think she might._

She parts her lips and gently presses them to mine, still stroking the hairs on my chin with her fingers. She hums into my mouth, and I can only moan back.

Her lips stay pressed to mine - warm, firm, confident - and I reach my hands up to stroke either side of her face.

_My dear girl…_

Her kiss lingers, as she pulls her lips away slowly, then she kisses me again.

When our lips part for the second time, both of us are panting. I look up at her, and she smiles sheepishly. She pulls me into a bear hug, peppering the top of my head with butterfly kisses.

_I am yours._

_Thank you for letting me in._

____________________________

She gave me time to myself in the bathroom, before I joined her in her bedroom. As I brushed my teeth, I glanced at myself in the mirror. I must admit, seeing myself in a collar is funny. There are two ways you can look at it - feel uncomfortable, or just go with it, as part of the character. Thank goodness I’m an actor. It certainly makes it easier.

I walked out of the bathroom and dropped down to all fours to crawl into her room, feeling a little mischievous. I silently stalked up behind her as she was standing, absent-mindedly brushing her hair, and quickly lapped at the back of her knee, making her shriek.

“Tom!” she practically dropped her comb, and whirled around to look at me. I look up at her with a wry grin, and she giggles.

_I could listen to that sound forever.  
_

“Honey, you’re still dressed…,” she sets her comb on the dresser, then kneels down in front of me.

Rather naughtily, I want her to undress me.

So I fake that I can’t undress myself.

I bow my head and try to tug at my shirt with my teeth, failing miserably.

“Okay, okay,” she rests back on her heels, and begins to help me out of my jacket.

She is then tentative as she reaches for the bottom hem of my tee shirt. Even though she’s seen me shirtless before, undressing me is a different matter I suppose. I shift forward a little on my knees, and huff.

She begins to peel the shirt from me, gliding the fabric softly over my skin. Her fingers graze against me as she goes, making my abs contract, and I shiver a little in pleasure.

I raise my arms and she slinks the shirt up over me, setting it down on the floor.

She then leans in to me and plants a gentle kiss on my chest. I yelp in surprise. She looks up at me, cautiously, and I cock my head to one side, smiling warmly.

_Please kiss me again, if you’d like to._


	8. Chapter 8

TOM’s POV

She seemed nervous about going anywhere near my belt or trouser zipper to continue undressing me. The last thing I wanted was for her to feel uncomfortable around me, especially since it seemed she was starting to relax.

So when her shaking hands started to move towards my crotch, I darted away and crawled over to the bedside table.

“Tom?” she called out, and I yelped, then knelt up to turn off the lamp by the bed.

We were thrown into darkness.

I pawed off my shoes and wriggled out of my jeans, the belt buckle clanking noisily.

I could hear her move onto the bed, the duvet crumpling and rustling as she went, and she hung her head over the side of the bed near me.

_Watching me in my underpants? You cheeky minx…_

I feigned coyness just to play with her, curling into a ball and shaking slightly.

“Tom, Tom,” I heard her say gently, and felt her warm palm pat my arm. “No need to hide. Let’s get you into bed.”

I stayed coiled, my face buried into my folded arms. I peeked up at her over my arms.

“Come on, cutie,” she coaxed, a delicious smile on her face. It was so lovely to have her invite me into her bed. I remember the first night I had to literally howl at her door to even enter her bedroom….

I crawl over to her and climb up onto the bed, pawing at the covers a bit, and I take the corner of a pillow in my teeth, shaking the pillow as if it’s a rag doll.

She laughs, and I give her a wink.

“Tom,” she happily sighs, and I crawl to her, staying on all fours above her body.

I lean my head down carefully, and skim my lips back and forth across hers. Her breath is broken and hitched, enjoying the sensation, I hope. I stroke the tip of my nose against hers, then tilt my head, close my eyes, and lean down further to kiss her.

And it’s like I’ve unlocked something.

Because her hands are tangled in my hair, pulling my head down even more to meet her mouth, her breaths now loud and panting, and I can feel her body writhing underneath me.

As we kiss, her fingers stroke the side of my beard, then across my shoulder, then I feel her palm against my heart. I pull away slightly from the kiss, and open my eyes to look down at her. Her eyes are glassy and fiery.

Still above her, I rest on my elbows, then place my hand over her heart.

And we look at each other, hands over hearts, our breaths steadying, but our gazes fiercely locked.

I lean in to plant kisses along her jaw, then down along her neck, making her gasp and wrap her arms around my neck. I smile as my lips find her collarbone, and I lap at it affectionately. I then dip my head to quickly give her armpit one long lick, making her squeal loudly in the darkness. I chuckle against her skin, and she runs her fingers through my hair, bringing my face up to meet her gaze.

She opens her mouth as if to say something, then draws me in for another kiss, this time edging her tongue gently across my lips, pressing through them into my mouth. I gasp, then emit a low rumble. I relax down onto her, keeping my weight steady so as not to crush her, and begin to lave at her tongue with mine. I flicker the tip of my tongue along the side of hers, massaging the underside, then gently suck at her tongue, making her moan.

The sound goes straight to my groin.

I release her tongue, and warmly kiss both corners of her mouth, then give her one last sloppy lick from her chin to the tip of her nose.

She giggles.

I rest my head on her shoulder, relaxing, and skim my fingers up and down her sides. She hums serenely.

“Tom,” she whispers.

I snuffle.

“I can’t wait to talk to you.” She pauses. “I mean, have you talk back to me.”

I squeeze her.

“Any chance you could slip out of character?”

I think about it.

Not sure.

If I start talking I know I won’t stop, and my character prep will go down the pan.

I nuzzle my face against her neck and keep quiet.

“Please?”

_Oh god darling no, don’t plead with me_.

I mewl, and kiss her throat.

She sighs.

“Oh, okay then…,” I _think_ I hear a smile in her voice. “I guess it’ll make it even more special when I finally get to hear you.”

She squeezes me, and we rest warmly in each others arms.

Her breathing slows. Her body is still.

I _think_ she’s on the verge of falling asleep.

I shift my mouth closer to her ear, and whisper, “I’m in love with you.”


	9. Chapter 9

TOM'S POV

I don’t think she heard me.

Whilst she fell fast asleep, I stayed awake a while longer, content in her arms. I breathed in her scent, and stroked the ends of her hair carefully, making sure I didn’t wake her.

And I felt glad that things hadn’t developed between us any more quickly than they had.

In truth, I wanted to ‘be’ with her as a human (gosh that sounds strange in my head, of course I’m a human!), not in this pet role. If things develop further, physically, I want to be fully me.

Well, maybe a leetle bit in this pet role. But mostly me. Tom as Tom.

And I could tell that although she was clearly enjoying ‘pet Tom’, she was also still holding back a little, taking her time, tentatively getting closer to me.

_Sigh_. As fun as this game is, part of me can’t truly wait until I can be ‘human’ me with her.

_Oh god_.

I hope she likes human me. I hope I don’t disappoint her. What if she only likes it when I’m acting like an animal? Then she won’t like me for me… just for this role.

_Oh god_.  
_________________________________________________

I didn’t sleep too well. My thoughts started to spiral a bit, worrying that things would all go tits up once she met me as a ‘human’. I kept talking myself out of these thoughts - _of course she would like me for me, there’s a part of me in all the pet play I’ve been doing so far…_ \- but it was hard to shake off the doubts.

Would she like me when I’m exhausted and mute after a long day of rehearsals?

Would she still want to be around me when I’m blathering on about Shakespeare after one too many red wines?

_Oh god_.

I look at the clock on the bedside table. 6am. Saturday. I slip out from under the bed covers, pick up my jeans and t shirt, and quietly leave the room.

The bathroom is cool. I start to run the shower, testing the water to check it’s warm enough, then climb in, letting the water clean away my foggy thoughts.

_Of course she’ll still like me. Of course she will. Come on Tom, you’re an optimist. Stop this nonsense._

I soap her shampoo into my hair. The vanilla scent wafts around me, and all I can think of is her.

Once clean, I towel myself dry and get into my clothes, then quietly scuttle downstairs to the kitchen. I make myself a cup of tea, and take it with me to the living room. I plonk the tea down on the coffee table, and go to the small desk in the corner, taking a clean sheet of paper from the printer, and a biro from her stationary pot.

I sit on the sofa, and begin to write.

Well. That ‘pet play’ rule book didn’t say anything about pets not writing, did it?  
______________________________________

I didn’t realise that I’d crashed out until I felt her kiss the top of my head.

I opened my eyes and found myself sprawled out on her sofa, a saliva stain on one of her cushions ( _sorry, love_ ). The biro had dropped onto the floor, and my letter was perched on the edge of the coffee table. I’d managed to write her name on the back of it, before I’d fallen asleep. Next to the letter were scrunched up balls of paper - letter attempts 1 and 2.

It had been a difficult process. I almost forgot the whole idea.

Everything I wrote seemed to be trite, and frankly a bit needy.

But there are some things you can’t explain via a grunt, yelp, or sniff.

“You OK?” I hear her sweet voice, and lean my head back to look at her. She looks _beautiful_. Peaceful.

“What are you doing down here?” she muses, eyeing my clothed and collared body. “Couldn’t sleep, huh?”

I _almost_ spoke. I was going to ask her what the time is.

Instead, I yawn noisily and stretch, reaching up to find her hand. I take it in mine, and lower her hand to my lips to press a kiss to her knuckles. Then I lick in between her fingers.

She giggles and pulls her hand away.

I slide off the sofa, grabbing the letter off the table in my mouth, and crawl around to her.

“Oh goodness Tom, not another letter…” she smiles wryly. “Is this allowed?”

I raise my eyebrows at her, and shrug.

“Oh what the hell, sometimes rules are made to be broken.” She gently takes the letter from me, and I crawl closer to her to nudge her knee with the top of my head.

Still standing, she unfolds the paper.

_It’s a ridiculously early hour on a Saturday morning. And I’m sitting alone on your sofa, when really, I should still be in your arms. But I can’t sleep. And I can’t seem to shake my thoughts. Well, one thought in particular that hit me like a tonne of bricks._

_So writing this out will have to do._

_I am worried that you won’t like me once I’m no longer a ‘pet’._

_I know. That may sound silly to you, and I’m not normally one to second-guess what may happen in the future. ‘One day at a time’ tends to be my philosophy._

_But you mean so much to me, and I’m honestly petrified that once this weekend is over, and you’ll meet ‘normal’ me, you’ll be disappointed._

_I’m telling you this because I’m worried that my fears will stop me getting close to you. That I might pull back for the rest of this weekend, to protect myself. If you see me hesitate, from now til Sunday, please know that it’s not because I don’t like you. It’s because I’m scared of getting too close, then being rejected._

_I want to believe that you won’t change your mind about me. I’m trying to work through my fears. I want to stay vulnerable to you. After all you’ve given me, you deserve it._

_If it’s any way of an explanation, I’ve had experiences with women previously who have been in love with the idea of me, not who I really am. I’m terrified to get burnt again._

_So. That’s it, really._

_I don’t doubt you. I doubt myself._

_But I will try, really hard, to stop doing that._

_Your Tom_

I rest my head against her leg as she reads.

It’s odd. Not being able to talk or communicate beyond yelps and growls makes sharing actual words a daunting process.

I hope she doesn’t laugh at me and tell me I’m being silly. I know, on some level, these doubts _are_ silly. But they’re also true for me, and I feel them.

“Oh, Tom,” she bends over a little to kiss the top of my head. Her lips linger on me, and she puts her arms around my shoulders.

I purr quietly, waiting for her to say something.

She gently rocks me.

“I have an idea,” she says, brightly.

?

This wasn’t the response I was expecting.

She gives me a hearty squeeze, then dashes upstairs.

A minute later, she comes back down, her laptop under her arm.

She briskly walks to the sofa, sits down, and fires up the laptop, settling it on her knees.

“Come here,” she smiles encouragingly at me, and I crawl up to sit next to her, my long legs tucked up under me, knees jutting out over the sofa edge.

YouTube.

She types my name into the search box.

My eyes lower. _Oh god_.

She whispers to me in a conspiring manner, raising an eyebrow, “So, who _are_ you, Tom Hiddleston?”


	10. Chapter 10

TOM'S POV

I’m not one to watch my own performances. I definitely don’t watch my own interviews. There’s something toe-curlingly awful about watching yourself. Watching yourself act - you pick up on the things you wish you could have done better. Watching yourself be interviewed - all I see are flailing arms. _For gods sake man, sit still_.

Watching yourself while sitting next to someone you care about deeply ups the awkward factor by ten.

She watched a small clip of me in The Avengers, snorting back a laugh.

“I should get you a horn helmet to go with your collar,” she mused, and I hid my face in her armpit.

She then watched a clip of me from the Hollow Crown. I looked more like ‘me’ in this - same goatee and pushed back reddy-brown curls. I peeked up to look at her. She seemed rapt. I wanted to ask her if she liked Shakespeare. Then I remembered - I’m sure I’d clocked a copy of the Oxford Complete Works somewhere…. Yes, over there, on her shelf, next to her photo albums.

“That was really good…,” she murmurs, more to herself, I think, than directed at me. I smile to myself.

“Best Shakespeare play I saw was Hamlet at the Donmar…,” she reminisces, whilst typing something into the YouTube search box. “The worst was Hamlet at Stratford.” She looks at me, raising an eyebrow. “Funny how the same piece of text can be turned into something both glorious and heinous.”

I burst into a giant grin, wanting to share with her my thoughts on the bard and the productions I’d been in. I can’t wait to speak with her after this weekend.

Maybe she _will_ like me when I’m not a pet…

She turned back to the laptop screen.

“So let’s see….,”

On the screen, there was a long list of thumbnails, with interview dates and titles next to them.

“You’re like a chameleon,” she giggles, her eyes roving over the thumbnails where I have different hair and varying degrees of facial hair. “I like all of you, though.”

I feel myself blush, and I shift next to her.

“What the hell, let’s go for the highest viewed vid.”

I turn my face away from the screen and let my eyes flutter closed. I rest the back of my head against her shoulder, and listen to my rambling voice coming from the laptop speakers.

_Blah de blah de blah…. Get on with it, Tom_

Eventually, the laptop finally goes silent, and I feel her nestle back into the sofa next to me.

“Tom,” she nudges me.

I grunt, and stay still. I pretend to be asleep.

“Tom.”

I let my mouth drop open and begin making snoring noises, like a bear.

She snorts with laughter and tickles me. I yelp and sit up with a start.

  
I turn slightly to face her, and am met with her warm, smiling, encouraging, _glorious_ face.

Damn. I’m so hooked on her.

“You really thought I wouldn’t like _you_?”

She holds my gaze, letting a pause hang in the air. I swallow, and look down.

“Are you actually _insane_?”

I chew the inside of my cheek. _Um… maybe_?

I feel the tip of her finger under my chin, and she raises my face to look at her.

Steadily, she leans in, her face inches from mine. I’m fairly certain that I’m holding my breath right now.

“You are absolutely, _absolutely_ , brilliant.”

I chew on my lower lip. _Really_?

“I could watch interview clips of you for hours.”

I harrumph. Not sure if I could cope with sitting here all day listening to myself.

Her smile broadens.

“I am so excited to meet ‘human Tom’,” she drops her hand from my face and turns to lean back against the sofa. “Oh my god, the things we can talk about….,” her eyes rove the ceiling above us.

She then whips her head down and round to look at me, laughing softly.

“I can’t believe….,” she leans in, as if to kiss me. “Tom, you have absolutely _nothing_ to worry about. I’m not gonna dump you as soon as this pet play thing is over. Good gracious,” she tuts lightly. I blink back at her.

“One day at a time,” she whispers. “I’m going to enjoy pet Tom, then enjoy human Tom, and be greedy that way, if you’ll let me.“

I chuckle softly, feeling a certain something coming to life _down there_ , and she presses her lips to mine.


	11. Chapter 11

TOM'S POV

It feels like everything has changed.

After she closed her laptop down, she made her way to the kitchen, humming to herself as she made us both tea. I knelt beside her on the kitchen floor, and she pressed me close to her side. She started _singing_ to me. Her voice was sweet, soft, happy, and… hold on, I _think_ that’s a Taylor Swift song.

I squint my eyes closed, and howl along with her loudly, making her giggle, then she starts yelling. “Oh god - Thomas that sounds so bad!”

She bends over laughing, and my howl breaks up a bit as I wheeze a few giggles.

“Fine, you’ve asked for it buddy,” she mischievously looks down at me, then holds onto the kitchen worktop, throwing her head back, and howls too.

I fling my arms around her leg, and press my face into her thigh.

She’s letting go, and enjoying herself, and it makes me delighted to share this moment with her. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be than right here right now on my knees next to this remarkable spirit.

For most women, even the idea of a man acting like an animal would elicit some kind of negative reaction. She could have shamed me, ignored me, tried to control me, told me to ‘snap out of it’.

Instead, she has been nothing but open, welcoming, whilst trying to make sense of it for herself. I had always felt safe.

And now she’s enjoying it. Enjoying me, for being who I am as a ‘pet’ right now.

That level of acceptance is … overwhelming to me.  
______________________________________________________

  
For the rest of the day she’s been more confident, more playful, though still very sweet and kind to me.

Indeed, there is an outright _filthy-minded_ side to her, that I think needs to be explored…

I think she’s doing things deliberately to turn me on.

Normally when she bends down to pick something up, she’ll bend at the knees and crouch down. Today, she’s been keeping her legs straight and bending at the waist, arching her back slightly, the hussy.

Even worse, she’s been directing her denim-short-clad derriere towards me, knowing full well that on my knees or on all fours her very fine booty is at my eye level.

AND I’ve noticed these flirty glances she gives me, especially when she’s sipping a drink. She never did that before.

AND every now and then if she knows I’m behind her, she’ll give me a look - you know, _the look_ \- over her slender shoulder.

It makes me feel hungry.

 _Two can play at that game_.

So far I had been playing things cute.

That’s about to change.

It’s _on_.  
_______________________________________

She had hand-fed me pizza for lunch, her sitting on a stool by the breakfast counter, me on my haunches on the floor by her side, nudging her knee with my nose whenever I wanted more. When we finished she went to the fridge to get two small pots of chocolate mousse.

“You like mousse, right?” she flung me _that look_ over her shoulder, and I lowered my head a little, looking up at her darkly.

I saw her composure falter a little, and she almost tripped over her own feet as she turned to face me.

I growled, deep and territorially - not like the cute growls I’d been giving so far - and shifted into a crouch position on all fours, as if to pounce.

“Tom,” she whimpered, looking a little nervous. So I winked at her.

Then I ran as best I could on all fours towards her.

She squealed and ran out of the kitchen door, into the hallway, giggling. I chased after her, following her up the stairs to her bedroom, where she was standing in the corner, holding the two pots of mousse as high as she could.

I loitered in the bedroom doorway, and scratched the side of my beard against the doorframe, keeping my eyes locked on her.

“Tom, be good. If you’re not good, there’s no mousse for you.” She tried to sound in charge. “I can eat them both.”

I snarled and started to slowly crawl towards her, almost stalking her, trying to be like a tiger hunting its prey. I probably didn’t look quite _that_ graceful, but it stirred something within her, as her eyes darted around the room, thinking about her escape route.

She leaped towards the bed, crawling over it, however I managed to grab one of her ankles that were dangling off the end of the bed. She shrieked, and as I tried to pull her back towards me, I could feel her gripping onto the mattress, giggling.

“No!” she squeaked, and her legs kicked a bit. I held both her ankles still, and growled again, trying to disguise my own laughter.

She let go of the bed and pushed herself up on all fours, then turned to face me, raising an eyebrow.

She _growled_.

A very cute, kitten-like growl, but a growl none-the-less.

I let go of her ankles and swiftly climbed on to the bed next to her, and growled deeply at her, leaning my face into her hair and sniffing loudly.

“Tom,” she whispered, and I nudged her shoulder. I kept nudging, a little more forcefully each time, guiding her onto her side, then onto her back. I crawled on top of her, still on all fours.

I interlinked my fingers in hers, and pinned her hands up by her head, resting on my forearms. I leant in to growl menacingly at her ear.

Her breathing was hitched.

I shifted my head back to look in her eyes, feeling rather dominant, and licked my lips.

She squirmed. “Tom…,”

I noticed one of the mousse pots lying on the bed near us, and bent my head to pick it up, biting on a corner of the lid to lift it.

I balanced the small pot on the top of her chest, in between her collar bones, propping it up against her chin, then carefully peeled back the lid with my teeth.

She laughed.

I then dipped my tongue into the pot, curling it to pick up a large blob of mousse. I briefly let my eyes flit to hers, then I raised my tongue to her mouth.

She _groaned_ in anticipation.

I made her wait.

She huffed, and shifted a little under me, then opened her mouth rather comically, like a baby bird.

I then let my tongue dip into her, and she wrapped her lips around me, gliding the mousse from my skin.

I then hooked another portion of mousse on my tongue, and smeared it along her cheek, making her giggle. This time, I lapped at it noisily, cleaning her skin, and she sighed with contentment.

I lowered my waist to meet hers, and looked down at her, as if I were about to _devour_ her.

She gasped, her hands pushing against mine, and her body writhed.

“Tom…,” she panted, and pressed her waist into mine. I could feel myself hardening next to her, and so I raised my hips up from hers.

I gently took the half-empty mousse pot in my teeth, and set it to the side.

She stopped moving beneath me, and her breathing evened out.

“What?”

I sniff, and lean down to nip at her chin sweetly.

“I…. I’m sorry,” her voice sounds tiny.  “You’re stirring things in me that … I mean, I feel safe with you to be… you know… sexy…”

I close my eyes and kiss the tip of her nose. _Yes you certainly are sexy…_

“I thought maybe you liked me this way, too.”

My eyes dart open, and I nod frantically. I didn’t mean for her to think…  I don’t want her to think I don’t like her sexually! _Oh crap Tom, quick…_

I let go of her hands and instead, trail my fingers through her hair. I lick one cheek, then the other, and start whining as I kiss her on her mouth, my crotch moving next to hers.

“Tom,” she pushes back from me, “what is this?”

_I’m losing her. Confusing her._

I stop moving, and gaze into her eyes, where I see tears forming, and she looks away.

I make a sound like a meow, and nuzzle my nose next to hers, trying to get her to face me, but she simply turns her head the other way, and raises a hand to cover her eyes.

“Hey,” I couldn’t stop the word leaving my mouth. I don’t care. Damn the rules.

I gently pry her hand from her eyes with my fingers, and gaze warmly at her.

I stroke my finger along her tear tracks.

“I don’t want to… sleep with you until I’m ‘human’ Tom,” I whisper.

She blinks up at me, her mouth opening and closing, lost for words.

“It wouldn’t feel right…,” I graze the back of my hand along her cheek, musing. “I want our first time to be …. real.” I swallow. “I want to be able to say your name while I make love to you.”

A tear dribbles down her cheek, yet the corners of her mouth start to flicker up.

She nods.

“I want to be able to tell you how much you mean to me when I’m inside you,“ I swallow again, my mouth feeling dry.

“Is that okay?” I whisper, nuzzling my nose against hers.

She grins, nodding, and runs her fingers though my hair, bringing me closer for a kiss.

“That’s why I … well, I pulled away, before I couldn’t stop myself… I didn’t mean to make you cry,” I breathe against her lips. She laughs.

“You’ve turned me into a total mess of emotions, Mister Hiddleston,” she bites her lip.

I gaze down at this flushed, emotional beauty before me and smile. “You are absolutely stunning, you _do_ know that?”

She breaks my gaze, blushing.

I cheekily press my still-hard length against her crotch, making her gasp. “This is all because of you, you maddeningly irresistible woman.”

I tickle her ribs lightly and she squeals in surprise.

“My squeak toy,” I chuckle, and she kisses me warmly, humming into my mouth.

“May I go back to being your pet now?” I stroke my chin across hers, letting my bristles rub at her skin.

She wraps her arms around me, pulling me close for a hug. “I guess so,“ she replies with a relaxed sigh.

I hear her breathing at my ear, and I nuzzle in close to her.

“Is it too early to say ‘I love you’?” she says hesitantly.

I squeeze her against me and snuffle, nuzzling her face until we’re eye to eye. I grin.

“Then, Tom Hiddleston, I love you.”

Her eyelids flutter closed and she kisses me sweetly.

This time it is I who feel an emotional mess.

I kiss her back, drinking her in, her scent, her taste, her touch, the sounds of her breaths, and feel my heart practically _throbbing_ in my chest.

“Breaking character,” I mumble, my voice faltering as I swallow the lump in my throat.

“I love you too.”


	12. Chapter 12

OC’s POV

  
Last weekend had been magical.

After we had said those three little words to each other, I felt like any clouds of doubt had been cleared, for both of us. There were no more miscommunications, no more tears (except happy ones). Tom was playful, sexy, adorable - and I took everything he offered without reservation. His eyes consistently shone with sincerity, and my heart was his.

He had truly obliterated every last layer I had around my heart, many of which I didn’t even know I had.

He left on the Sunday.

Wordlessly, he pressed a note into my hand with his number, email, the words ‘I love you’, and a smiley face with a pair of cat ears.

He also wrote a time and place for our first human to human date.

2.30pm Tuesday at Le Pain Quotidien, Marylebone.  
  
We kissed our goodbyes on our knees in the hallway, hungrily tasting each other with tongues, like a couple of horny teenagers. He then rose to his full height and stumbled out of the door, grinning wolfishly at me. 

I closed the front door and squealed.  
________________________________

It was a clear-skied sunny day, and I felt _giddy_ with excitement as I walked up Marylebone High Street to the French coffee shop.

The waitress greeted me at the entrance, handing me a menu, but my eyes blurred past her, looking for him.

I didn’t have to look far.

He stood up as my eyes locked on his, rising from the sofa in the far corner.  Tall and lean, in a crisp white shirt and blue suit trousers.

I don’t know if I’m going to survive this.

I can’t even remember how I made my way over to him, but I found myself in his open arms.

“Hello you,” he smiles sweetly, and I fold into him.

Woah he smells good, like he’s just stepped out of the shower.

I bury my nose into his shirt neck and sigh. Yummy.

He squeezes his arms around my shoulders, then kisses the top of my head and murmurs my name.  He releases me slightly, taking my hand in his, and guides me to sit on the sofa with him. His gaze never leaves me. Reading me.

I smile.

He runs his hand through his hair and bites his lip. “Feels funny to not be on my knees around you.”

I laugh loudly. “It seems strange hearing your voice…”

His shoulders shake as he bites back a laugh, looking a little shy.

“I love your voice though,” I confess.

He nudges his shoulder next to mine. “You look absolutely…,” he pauses, and sighs softly. “Words fail me.”

I giggle.

“If there’s one thing I’ve learnt from being your pet, it’s that words can often be unnecessary, or inadequate…,” he strokes my cheek with his fingertips, while his eyes rove over my features. He then leans in for a chaste kiss.

“Having said that….,” he whispers by my lips, “I can’t wait to ply you with as many beautiful words that I can think of.” He takes my bottom lip gently in his teeth and tugs, making me gasp. “I’ll be your talking pet.”

He pulls back and winks, and the waitress appears before us to take our order. She shortly bustles off, and Tom turns to me, resting his elbows on his knees.

“So how was it for you?” He reaches across and holds my hand, giving it a light squeeze and circling his thumb around mine. “Having a pet, I mean?”

I exhale sharply. Where to begin? Glorious, fun, odd, emotional, sometimes frustrating…

I deflect his question back to him. “Well, how was it for you to be a pet?”

“ _Your_ pet,” he smiles softly, and runs the tip of his tongue along his lower lip. “It was freeing. It was like being in a fairytale. It was _intoxicating_. The whole experience left a huge imprint on me. I’ve never felt so… free. And…,” he dips his head a little, thinking, then looks back up at me, “… I fell in love.”

I blush, and smile.

“A life changing experience,” he muses in a low voice. “Although it’s not over, not by a long shot.” He leans close to me, his nose tickling against the skin on my neck, and kisses the slope between my neck and shoulder. I shudder.

“I will always be your pet, if you’ll have me,” he whispers, his mouth still at the bottom of my neck. He sniffs me there three times, little bursts of breath fluttering across my sensitive skin.

My hand automatically reaches up to pet his hair, and he growls sweetly.

“God yes,” I whimper, and he nuzzles the top of his head into the crook of my neck.   
________________________

We had to restrain ourselves. Either restrain ourselves or get a room. 

So we talked. Like people. Like humans.

Over teas and hot chocolates we yakked about our families, our dreams, our fears, things we had seen in each other’s photo albums. We talked about Shakespeare, anecdotes from some of my more colourful journalism assignments, anecdotes from Tom’s times on sets.

  
Our conversation was peppered with Tom giving me little sniffs or growls from time to time.

We riffed about things we’d love to do together in future - places to travel to, activities to try (rowing on the Thames! Climbing the O2 dome!), all the while holding hands. I felt about five years old, having a no-limits wide-eyed conversation with a best friend.

Hours had passed, and I was full of liquid. I drank my large hot chocolate bowl to its final dregs, and rested back contentedly into the comfy sofa.

Tom leaned over the small table in front of us where I’d set the near-empty bowl down to peer into it. He inched in closer and closer, sniffing. Then he started lapping at the chocolate along the bowl’s rim, then lowered his chin into the bowl so he could clean the sides.

I chuckled and pat his head, quickly glancing around to check no eyes were on us.

He purred.

I leant in to get a closer look at him. His eyes shifted to look at me from under his brow, and his tongue lazily lapped back and forth over the edge of the bowl. He growled.

My core clenched and I had to squeeze my thighs together.

A ring tone trilled loudly, and Tom frowned, sitting up to pull his phone from his trouser pocket.

“Argh, clean forgot - I’ve got a meeting with my agent…,” his eyes rove while he thinks.

“I hope you haven’t had enough of me…,” he slightly arches an eyebrow, “only I’d love to see you tonight.” He straightens a little. “I’m so sorry - you probably have plans, don’t you…”

I shake my head forcefully. “No, no plans at all - I would love to see you too”. I smile coyly. “I love you”.

His face lights up with a grin.   
___________________________________________

Intriguing.

I’d literally turned onto Tom’s street at our meeting time of precisely 8pm when I received his text.

_Meeting’s overrun so I’ll be a bit late - do let yourself in (spare key under the mat - Chubb one for building door, silver one for my flat) & have some food. I’ll be as quick as I can. PS left a gift for you in bedroom, don’t wait for me to get home to have it xx_

A gift, eh?

I walk on, clocking the house numbers until I see his. I rock up to a well-kept townhouse, and flap about with the welcome mat, feeling a bit conspicuous. Keys found, I open the large wooden door and enter the building, ascending the staircase to Flat 2.

His flat is beautiful. Despite the old age of the building, everything has been knocked through to create a light, airy, open-plan space. There’s sparse furniture - simply a large brown leather sofa, a coffee table, a few floor lamps. A massive bookshelf lines one wall, a giant Jackson Pollock print on the other, and there are stacks of DVDs messily piled around the television.

It was getting dark, although not yet pitch black - through the large bay windows the sky seemed a royal blue colour. Murky shadows were cast around the living area. I didn’t think to turn on the lights.

A small staircase lines the side of the room, and I assume it will take me to the bedroom, so I make my way up.

I feel like a burglar.

The stairs lead to a smaller second floor, which has three doors leading off a hallway. I pass the first one and peek round the door - a small study, containing a desk littered with what I can only guess are scripts.

The next room is the bathroom. Large, with a wet room - style shower taking up the whole of the far side wall.

I notice a faint glow coming from the last door, which is slightly ajar, and edge it open more fully.

I _whimper_ when I see what is on the large king size bed.

Tom is kneeling, in a white t shirt and grey jeans, his collar on, with a tube of Smarties  between his teeth. He drops the tube to the mattress in front of him, and yelps.


	13. Chapter 13

OC'S POV

Light from the church candles dotted around the large bedroom cast flickers of gold onto his dark red goatee and combed back curls. I want to stroke and pet him.

“Hello, lovely,” he says softly, and I go to him.

“You sneaky boy,” I giggle and wrap my arms around his neck, squeezing him to me. He presses his torso flush against mine, and sniffs next to my ear. “I wanted to surprise you.”

It feels as if my heart is growing to twice its size in my chest. “Tom…,” I whisper.

“Hey,” he nuzzles his head to face me, and gently kisses me on my lips, the tips of the hairs of his goatee tickling against my jaw. “I got you Smarties,” he murmurs as he pulls away.

I laugh loudly. “Is that my gift?”

“Yes,” he nods proudly. “Have some with me.”

I reach down to get the tube which lays askew on the mattress between us, then sit on the edge of the bed, my legs dangling to the floor. Tom crawls up behind me and rests his head on my shoulder.

“I take it you found my flat okay?” he says quietly at my ear, while I wrestle with the Smarties lid.

“Uh-huh,” I reply. “This place is beautiful, by the way.”

I take a look around his bedroom, where everything is bathed in the soft golden light from the candles. Everything is clean and tidy (I’m guessing he lets his messy side out in the study…), and across from the bed is a large bay window, similar to the ones downstairs, looking out onto the garden. Despite the clouds and London light pollution, I can make out a couple of stars.

Tom bites my shoulder gently.

“Okay, okay!” I go back to the Smarties tube and flip the top open, pouring a few into my hand.

“ _You_ just wanted to eat these, didn’t you hun?” I smirk, and raise my hand to Tom’s mouth. He laps and crunches at them noisily.

I pour a couple into my palm and along with them slides out a cool shiny band.

It’s a ring.

A _ring_.

_Oh Lord._

“Tom…,” my voice wavers a little.

“It’s just a gift,” he whispers against my neck.

“Tom, I… I…,” I start stammering.

“It’s not a wedding ring or engagement ring or anything like that,” he interrupts me quickly, and reaches around to take the ring from me, holding it up in front of our eyes so it hits the candlelight better.

“It belonged to my grandmother. I’ve had it in an old box of mementos for years, never sure what to do with it. Until now.

I want you to have it. Maybe you could wear it on a chain as a necklace? You don’t have to wear it, if you don’t like it… “

“Tom, stop,” I whirl my head round to meet his and pull him into a deep kiss, my fingers plunging into his soft curls.

He pulls away first.

“I just wanted you to have something of mine that… that meant something.” He gazes at me, imploring me to accept his gift.

I have to look away before I start crying. Happy tears, but tears none the less.

I take the ring held gently between his fingers, and try it on for size. It’s quite small, and fits snugly on my pinkie finger.

“Tom it’s perfect, thank you,” I shift around to hug him, rocking him slightly in my arms.

“Thank you,” he whispers.

“So,” I exhale, trying to keep composed, “was this her wedding ring?”

“No,” he looks down softly at my newly-ringed hand, and takes it in both of his, stroking across my knuckles with his thumbs. “ _That_ became my mothers wedding ring.”

“Wow.”

“This,” he pulls my hand up to his lips and kisses the tip of my pinkie finger warmly, “was her… spirit ring.”

I ‘hmm‘, as if I understand.

Her what?

“My grandmother was very ahead of her time. She believed that a woman should always be true to herself, to her spirit, and not lose herself in a marriage. So many people stop seeing their friends or drop their favourite past times when they marry… and back then, well, you know how it was - often women stopped being themselves and instead became ’wives’ in the old-fashioned sense of the term.

She didn’t want to. So, she made a promise to herself to always be true to herself, to live life to the full, whether she married or not. And she bought herself this ring to remind her of that promise. She wore it every day until she died”

“Wow,” I am genuinely impressed. “She sounds like an amazing woman.”

“She was,” Tom smiles gently, his eyes soft. “And I asked to have this ring after she passed away. It reminds me to stay true to myself. She certainly inspired me. And, I’d hoped…,” he chuckles at himself and shakes his head slightly, “well, I think that maybe some of this ring’s meaning is true for you.”

He leans in to kiss me on my cheek, his breath tickling my flushed skin.

“You have a great spirit. And it has captured my heart. Keep your spirit burning brightly. For you. For me.”

I can’t help it. A tear rolls down my cheek.

“Tom,” I manage to breathe, “Are you sure I should have this?”

He kisses at my tear. “Positive.”

“I don’t have anything to give you in return.”

He growls, then nudges against my jaw with his forehead. “Just your love,” he says softly, and continues to nudge at me. I ruffle his hair and he yelps. He then slips off the bed on all fours and heads towards the door.

“Food, woman,” he says in a gravely deep voice. I wipe at my face with my fingertips, take a deep breath, and follow.


	14. Chapter 14

OC'S POV

Tom is an amazing cook. Amazing at one dish, at any rate, by his own admission.

“This is the Hiddleston Spag Bol,” he whirls around from the stove, carrying the large pot onto the cooling rack set in the middle of the kitchen table. “Secret recipe, which I may,” he winks at me, “share with you, when the time is right.”

“And when will that be, my chef?” I ask as he gracefully moves about from cupboard to cupboard, collecting chilli oil, herb jars and a pepper grinder. “Or will that be another surprise?”

He sets down the collection of seasoning and sniffs emphatically at me.

“Not telling.”

  
_______________________________________

Throughout dinner (which was scrumptious, by the way), I couldn’t help looking at the ring. It felt right.

In fact, everything felt _right_.

Whilst we twisted the pasta with forks in one hand, we held hands across the table with our free hands. We made very gentle conversation between mouthfuls, mostly me complementing the food, whilst Tom asked about my favourite kinds of food. When I told him I loved Mexican food in general, with a straight face he offered to make me nachos for breakfast. I groaned.

The kitchen was mostly white with a grey granite worktop. I noticed a coffee machine and a lot of boxes of tea. He also had oven gloves hanging from the oven rail, which tickled me for some reason.

Maybe because they were in the shape of dinosaur heads.

“What are you thinking?” Tom said quietly, gazing across the table at me, his plate almost empty.

I sighed happily. “Nothing really…. Just noticing how content I feel here with you. Almost like I’ve been here before. Even though I know I haven’t. There’s something familiar about it…”

Tom nods, and takes a sip of water.

“I think you were meant to be here,” he says quietly, looking at me over the top of the glass. He squeezes my hand, still in his. “You certainly look good at my kitchen table.”

I smile.

I could get used to this.

“Pudding?” Tom raises an eyebrow suggestively. I bite my lip. I’m feeling kind of full, but I don’t want to offend him, especially if he’s made something just for me.

“What do you have in mind?” I ask, and start to stand up to clear the table.

“Oh, leave them, I’ll do that later,” Tom wipes his mouth with a napkin and rises to go to the fridge.

“Nothing too heavy after that,” he mumbles as he rummages, then pulls out two small pots, closing the fridge door with his shoulder.

“I’m sorry but I couldn’t help myself when I saw them,” he looks a little embarrassed. “Erm, you do like jelly, don’t you?”  
____________________________________________

Who can say no to Waitrose fruit jelly pots?

Especially when you can spoon-feed the wobbly red dessert to a certain pet Tom, snuggling next to you under a blanket on his small balcony.

He laps at the spoon hungrily, giving little grunts of approval.

Whenever I dare raise a full spoon to my mouth, he watches very carefully and whines, tapping my knee with his hand.

I think by the end he might have eaten most of mine as well as his.

Pots emptied, he rests his head on my shoulder, and I reach my hand up to stroke his hair. He sighs contentedly.

“Do you like being a pet?” I ask him quietly.

He snuffles a quiet little grunt.

“Do you think you’ll stop once your project is over?”

He nuzzles his nose against my neck, then gently grazes his teeth across my skin. He sniffs.

“I won’t stop ‘til you say so,” he whispers darkly, and presses his tongue flatly under my ear. I shiver.

“So… erm,” I try to think clearly, but Tom’s tongue is incredibly distracting as it trails to the back of my neck. “Maybe there’ll be times when you’re a pet, then others when… Oh God,” he laps along the top of my spine, whilst gentle circling his fingers just below.

He chuckles, his intermittent warm breath puffing across my neck just to add to the sensuous torture.

“You are endlessly fascinating,” he breathes, and plants a long, lingering kiss on my nape.

He then runs the tip of his nose along the patch of skin he had been so mercilessly teasing. “Do you like both of us?”

I exhale a moan.

“Then,” he starts trailing kisses between my shoulders, “you will have both me and pet Tom.”

He begins coaxing me backwards, one arm wrapped around my shoulders, guiding me until I’m lying on the polished wooden flooring. He shifts to lie beside me, propping his top half up a little on his arms, gazing down at me.

I reach up to stroke the soft hairs of his goatee, and he shifts his mouth to lick at my palm. I can’t help but cry out his name.

“I’m yours,” he whispers, and leans down to ghost his lips next to mine.

“All of me,” he breathes, before sliding his hands under my head to support me. His eyelids flutter momentarily closed, and he continues to gaze at me, rendering me immobile.

“I’m yours,” he repeats, and nudges his nose next to mine, his lips meeting mine for the most tender and light kiss.

And that was it.

That was when he claimed me.

I wound my fingers into his hair and pulled him close to me, his warm body covering me, enveloping me, and I kissed him as if I was drinking him. I wanted him - his scent, his breath, his moans, the feeling of his muscles and limbs and skin - all to flood my senses. I wanted to bathe in him.

He peppered our kisses with little snuffs and grunts, then nuzzled the top of his head into the crook of my neck.

“Puppy…,” I crooned, and he gently bit my sensitive skin. He ran his nose along the side of my neck, then deftly crouched beside me, sliding his arms under my body to scoop me up.

I then found myself being carried up the stairs.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shenanigans

OC'S POV

I sat on the edge of the bed while Tom quietly closed the door, making a small click as he released the handle. He kept his back to me as he spoke in a low voice.  
  
“Tom, or Pet Tom?”  
  
My core clenched a little, and I swallowed. I wanted to ask what he wanted, yet his husky voice interrupted my thoughts.

“Let me be Tom tonight. Perhaps you will wake up to Pet Tom tomorrow…”  
  
I could hear my breath loudly, noisily taking in air as I admired the view.  
  
His tee shirt was fitted perfectly across his broad shoulders, shadows forming along the creases that clung to his shoulder blades. The light from the still-burning candles hinted at the little hairs that covered his sculpted arms. His long, lean legs planted him firmly to the spot, legs that I wanted to have wound around mine.  
  
“Are you ready?” he asked quietly.  
  
My core was practically _thrumming_ in anticipation. Holy hell, what’s coming next?  
  
I nodded my response, stupidly, considering he was facing the door.  
  
“Tell me, darling.” He shifted his face a little to the side, to glance over his shoulder at me.  
  
“Yes, yes Tom,” I shifted on the bed, not knowing what to do with myself.   
  
For the whole time we had been playing Pet Tom, I had felt a certain amount of control. Now I feel like I’m in his hands, although nothing has even happened yet.   
  
He turns to face me, slowly, his movement making the nearby candles flicker. He then pulls his tee shirt off as he stalks towards me, revealing and flexing muscles as he stretches, and lets the shirt drop to the floor.   
  
He kneels before me, and raises his hand up, motioning to me.  
  
“Foot.”  
  
My sock-covered feet, which were simply relaxing on the floor by the bed, now reflexively shimmy back towards the bottom of the bed.  
  
Tom raises a devilish eyebrow at me and repeats the word, this time with a slight growl to his voice.  
  
“Foot…”  
  
I tentatively slide my right foot across the floor towards him, and he scoops it up in his hand, cradling my foot in his palm.  
  
With his other hand, he starts to inch the sock off of me, exposing my skin. He begins to lightly pinch at the tops of my toes, one at a time, making me wriggle.  
  
“Thomas,” I squirm, and have to rest back on my elbows to support myself.  
  
“Shuuush,” he whispers, and begins trailing his fingertips up and down the arch of my foot, both arousing and tickling me. His heated gaze meets mine, and something in me clicks. Something in me wants to relax, and ‘give in’, and trust him, and let him pet _me_.  
  
“Don’t move,” he breathes, and begins to lower his lips to my foot. I claw at the bed sheet under me as I watch.  
  
He pauses, his lips hovering over the arch of my foot. I feel his warmth breath tingle across my nerve endings, and the gentle bristles around his mouth lightly skim the ball of my foot.  
  
I notice that my hips have been shifting.  
  
“Be still,” he warns, a mischievous glint in his eyes, and he slowly reaches his tongue out to flicker across my skin.  
  
I buck, my fingers clamping onto the bed, trying my damndest to ‘be still’, failing magnificently.  
  
Tom’s tongue meanders across the sole of my foot, stroking upwards to prise between my big and second toes.  
  
“Oh Jesus,” I cry out, and feel Tom snicker at my foot.   
  
“Lie back,” his deep voice commands, and my body gratefully falls onto the mattress.   
  
He guides my foot back down to the floor with his hand, then trails his fingertips up the back of my ankle, lingering there to graze my skin in little circles, then suddenly I feel two firm palms pressing down and squeezing on my jean-covered thighs, just above my knees.  
  
“Lift your hips.”  
  
I do so, and he claws at my jeans, his fingers dragging along my thighs underneath the fabric, until my legs are bare before him.  
  
He crawls a little closer, and says my name. I raise my head a little, to look down at him.  
  
“Strip.”  
  
_________________  
  
I’m standing, naked, on the rug at the bottom of the bed. My garments are scattered in various positions around the room, after he had watched me haul out of my top, unclasp my bra with my cheeks aflame, then rather ungainly slid my panties down, trying not to fall over.  
  
For the most part he had sat on the edge of the bed, shirt off, still as a statue, his eyes following my motions.  
  
As I began to shift out of my panties, Tom had knelt before me, head bowed, letting me rest a hand on his shoulder to keep my balance. His hands were clasped behind him the whole time.  
  
Now naked, he is still on his knees, his head arched up, eyes roving over me, taking me in. His expression is hungry, excited, yet also warm. Almost reverential.   
  
“Lift your arms up”  
  
I do so, noticing my breasts lift slightly  
  
Tom rests a finger across his lips, plotting.  
  
He then goes to the bed, reaching under a pillow, and pulls out a smooth, short strip of material.  
  
I can see where this is going.  
  
I’m not sure if I want my hands tied - purely because I love stroking him…  
  
“Tell me no, at any time, and I will honour your word.” He bites his lip, holding the satin tie behind his back. He slowly saunters over to me, and stands behind me. I can feel his breathe across my shoulder. He leans in closer, his warm mouth sucking gently at my ear lobe, and he growls.  
  
“If I blindfold you, will you come for me?”  
  
I moan, and start to let my arms drop down, yet firm hands guide them back up, Tom pushing his body flush next to mine behind me. “Arms up.”  
  
I manage to regain my balance, leaning back a little on Tom. His hands uncurl from my forearms, and he grazes his fingers down my arms, skimming the skin lightly, leaving tingling trails.  
  
“Will you?” his voice beckons at my ear, and I groan.   
  
“Tell me.”  
  
I gasp. “Yes, Tom.”  
  
Satisfied, he nuzzles his nose against my neck, inhaling sharply, breathing me in. I moan his name again, trying desperately to keep my arms up.  
  
“When I remove this blindfold, I will be naked before you.” he whispers in my ear, and he pulls away from me.  
  
My chest is heaving as I pant, and wait. Wait, because I can feel nothing, and hear nothing, and for some strange reason I feel immobilised, unable to even turn and look at him to see what he’s up to.  
  
I finally feel the pads of his fingers gently massaging at the nape of my neck, occasionally dipping into my hair, and his addictive voice is back at my ear again,  
  
“Close your eyes, my love. Let me pleasure you.”  
  
I try to blink my eyelids shut, the adrenalin coursing through my body making it very difficult for me. “Tom,” I manage to whimper meekly, “let me look in your eyes first, please.”  
  
He shifts around my side and stands close to me, cupping my chin gently in one hand as the other limply holds the blindfold at his side. His brow is furrowed.  
  
“Are you okay? Is this too much? We don’t have to if you don’t w…,”  
  
“Tom,” I let my arms fall, resting one hand on his shoulder, and placing a finger softly on his lips to shush him. He looks down at my finger comically.  
  
“This….,” words are failing me. I shake my head. “This… you… please, _please_ carry on, this is amazing.”  
  
The corners of his mouth turn up a little, proudly, and he winks.  
  
“I just … felt like I wanted to … I needed to look in your eyes before…” I garble, and Tom shifts closer to wrap his arms around me, sighing softly.  
  
“I love you,” he squeezes me.  
  
“Love you, too,” I relax into his arms, and smile.  
  
After a moment, I feel Tom shift next to me - morphing from a bundle of cuddles into a strong, man-shaped clamp.   
  
“Arms up,” he drawls, and shifts out of my embrace, giving me another wink just before he moves around me to resume his position unseen behind me.  
  
He carefully wraps the silky blindfold around my eyes, tying it firmly into a knot at the back of my head.   
  
“Now, you will only be able to _guess_ where my tongue is going to begin.”


	16. Chapter 16

TOM’S POV

I softly flatten my tongue to caress her armpit, my palms pressing into her waist to hold her still as she gasps and writhes against me. I let my body push flush next to her bare skin, and skim my nose along her arm, breathing her in. She moans my name and I smile as I trail my tongue down, down towards her breast, full, raised and arching towards me.

I have dreamed of seeing her like this for days. Dreamed of feeling her soft skin against mine, waiting for me to explore. I want to cover every last inch of her skin with my tongue, my fingertips, and wrap her up within my limbs.

I will devour her.

I plant tiny kisses on her nipples, switching from one breast to the other, back and forth, and firmly wrap my arm around her waist to hold her upright. I feel her fingers roughly in my hair, and look up, my lips still tenderly at her nipple, to watch her gasp and pant,  breathing a strained ‘I… I can’t.”   
  
I straighten and guide her backwards to the bed, one hand pushing her back gently to lie down, whilst I work at my belt and trousers with the other. I bend over to nuzzle my head in-between her knees, kissing the soft skin at the side of her knee, whilst I manage to take off my jeans and boxers, now as naked as she.  
  
I reach up to interlink my finger with hers, and press her hands into the mattress either side of her as I crawl over her. The only part of our bodies that are touching are our hands, yet she undulates and wriggles, her mouth loosely open, on fire for me.  
  
I lean down carefully and brush my lips softly across hers, making her squeal.   
  
“Hey,” I whisper, and pull my head back a little as she tries to kiss me. She lets out a frustrated little grunt, and raises her head to try and reach my lips with hers. As she does so I swiftly unlink one hand from hers and slide the smooth blindfold from her face. He wide eyes blink rapidly and rove over the length of my body.  
  
“Thomas,” she pants, her legs clasping around my waist and almost levitates off the bed trying to wrap herself around me. I steady myself with my arms, solidly remaining over her. “Easy, easy,” I whisper, and nuzzle my head in the crook of her neck to lower her back onto the bed, keeping my exposed crotch very much away from her. I bring my lips to her ear. “I haven’t finished yet.”  
  
She pulls her arms tightly around my shoulders and whimpers. I smile, nuzzling the tip of my nose along the side of her ear.  
  
“All those weeks as Pet Tom,” I whisper, trailing my fingertips along her ribs, “crawling around your thighs…”

I lower my hand to trace the inside of her thigh, making her shudder.

“Glimpsing patches of your bare, bare skin, here and there…,” I shift my face down to lick at her collarbone affectionately.

“Wondering what might be waiting for me under your vest, here…,” I press a trail of kisses down from her collarbone towards the top of her breast.

“Or what may be inches away from me, hidden by shorts…” I let my hand wander across her thigh then smooth around the curve of her buttock, palming it, her roundness fitting perfectly into my large hand, and I squeeze her firmly. Her hips writhe.   
  
I bring my lips back to her ear. “In my collar, so wanting to please you..”

Her breaths are more erratic now, and a hand urgently meanders through my hair, pressing my head next to hers. I’m not sure how long I can continue coaxing her like this, but it is all I have dreamed of, and I don’t want it to be over before it’s even begun.  
  
“Do I please you?” I breathe, and she whimpers again, hands roving across the back of my head and shoulders. She swallows and pants loudly next to me. Her hands wander down towards my behind, but I raise it a little more into the air, away from her, and breathe gently at her ear.

“My body is yours. Every last inch of me. Every limb, every muscle, every movement, every part.” I pull my face away to look down at her. Her eyes are bleary, desperate, full of need. I trail my finger across her lips, musing.

“Let me please you with this body.” I stroke her cheek. “With these fingers”.

I lean down and swathe a long, lingering, full lick across her jaw. “With this tongue…,” I murmur, and she giggles lightly. I smile against her skin, and relax my head on her shoulder, my mouth near her ear.

“With this arm…,” I let my fingertips wander down the side of her breast, past her ribs, to her hip bone, and squeeze the side of my arm flush next to her body.

“With these legs…” I move my knee to nudge in-between her legs, party her legs to accommodate me, then kneel in between and start to lower myself onto her, keeping my weight on my elbows and knees.

My full length nudges softly at her pubic hair as it settles between us. “And with the most hidden, smoothest, gentle part of me,” I rock my crotch softly against hers, eliciting a moan from her as she throws her head back, pressing her body against mine. I kiss her cheek.  
  
“Tom please, Tom please, please…,” she moans, her legs firmly wrapping around mine, pushing up against my straining length.  
  
I breathe at her ear, growling slightly. “Please what?” I whisper innocently.  
  
“You know what,” her head turns and thrashes next to me, and I cup her face in my hand, stroking her jaw with my fingers to soothe her. I stay still, and she begins to calm a little.  
  
Once her breathing is less frantic, and her body lying limp below me, I take her hand, and start to interlock my fingers in hers, then pull them out slowly, rhythmically pumping in-between hers.

“Look at these fingers,” I whisper, and she tilts her head to look, biting her lip. I let my fingers slip from hers and trail them across the back of her hand, meandering circles with my fingertips down towards her wrist. “They yearn to please you,” I dip the tips of my fingers to stroke softly at the inside of her wrist, tracing the veins there, and I hear her moan.  
   
I lower my mouth towards her open palm, and stroke the tip of my nose across the centre, my fingers still teasing at her wrist. “My lips also desire you,” I say quietly at her skin, and kiss her slowly there.   
  
“And what of my tongue?” I growl, nuzzling the skin I just kissed with my nose. “What would he do?” I graze her palm with the tip of my tongue, hardly touching her, and she cries out, her body bucking under me. I then press the width of my tongue flatly across her skin, massaging her palm, tasting the slight saltiness there.  Then let my tongue flicker in-between her fingers, and she shrieks, her other hand clasping my shoulder, holding on desperately.  
  
I let her pleasured hand fall down to her side, and gaze into her eyes. I briefly let my eyes wander across her body, taking in every part of her, my mind whirring with ideas of what I could do to her - which part to begin with, how to touch it, whether to finger, or kiss, or bite, or lick…  
  
“Stay still,” I murmur, and bend my head to trail kisses along her neck, softly sucking the side of her throat, biting gently. I let my fingertips kiss the tip of her nipple, and squeeze her legs between my thighs.   
  
“Mine,” I whisper, and let every part of me find every way it can to tip her over the edge.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More shenanigans

OC’s POV  
  
 _Sniff_  
  
What the…?  
  
I stretch my arms out lazily under the covers, my body languid and heavy, and blink my eyes open, squinting a little at the morning light.  
  
 _Whine_  
  
“Tom!” I grin, as he gazes down at me, on all fours over the bed covers.   
  
He’s wearing his collar.  
  
“Hello, you,” I wind a hand up over the top of the duvet and pet his hair. He leans into my touch, closing his eyes, purring, as I let my fingers wander down to stroke his soft goatee, rubbing under his chin.  
  
“Good boy,” I whisper, and my eyes travel down towards his otherwise naked body. I’ve never seen a naked Pet Tom before.   
  
But I _did_ see a naked Tom last night…  
  
And oh god _he was glorious_.  
  
After untying the blindfold, he took his time stroking my body with his nimble fingers, reaching across my skin to hold my joints and muscles and limbs, as his tongue (oh god his tongue) glided across my skin - the insides of my arms, behind my knees, along my spine, at the back of my neck just under my hairline, finding new places that made me moan and want to clutch at him.  
  
I fear he has a road map now of which parts of me to go to to build up my sexual energy. That man is _dangerous_.  
  
I hear a small grunt and open my eyes to see Tom gently bite at my fingertips, looking at me sweetly. He takes the tip of my index finger between his teeth and starts to pull, playfully. I giggle. _Such a naughty pup…_  
  
But not as naughty as Tom. No, never as naughty…  
  
He’d held my hips down and apart while he painstakingly prised my folds apart with his tongue, gliding its soft tip across every inch of skin there, searchingly, pressing lightly amongst them, taking his time.   
  
Tom makes a soft little growl and lets my finger drop from his mouth, his eyes darting across my face. He sniffs, and lowers his body down to rest on mine, above the covers, his face gazing down on me.   
  
I can’t look away from his beautiful blue eyes that glisten a little, as they were the same eyes that watched me from between my legs last night as I writhed under the firm pressure of his palms, while he breathed my name at my entrance, over and over, before plunging his tongue inside of me.  
  
I notice my breathing quickening, and Tom peeks down at me, a small smile on his lips. I grin sheepishly at him and pull him close to me for a hug. He wraps his arms around me, encasing me in his broad shoulders, and makes quiet snuffling sounds by my ear, rubbing his bristles against my cheek.  
  
Further down, I swear I can feel something firm and long pressing down through the bedding above my crotch. _Oh sweetie don’t remind me…_  
  
He had held me in place as I rode out my orgasm, his tongue still flickering inside of me, relentlessly, refusing to stop as I shuddered and came around him. Then swiftly moving up, holding his gaze with mine, he glided his fully erect length slowly inside of me, inch by inch, filling me until his body was flush with mine, deeply embedded in me. That’s when he began saying my name as if it were a prayer. That’s when he began to whisper his confessions of love, of yearning, to me, moving gently in and out of me below. That’s when he blessed me with butterfly kisses everywhere he could reach - my collar bones, breasts, shoulders, throat, neck, fingers, whilst pledging his devotion in sweet words.  
  
And as I came, he’d held my face still in his hands, his eyes soft, whispering “my love, my love, my love…,” over and over until he came too, joining me, his arms holding me close to his body as he rocked around me.  
  
Tom shifts in my arms and leans over, his head nudging under the pillow next to me, squashing it up towards the headboard. I raise an eyebrow, incredulous.  
  
I then hear a light jangle and he pulls back towards me, a set of keys dangling in his mouth.  
  
“What’s this?” I reach up to touch the keys, and notice a large white card label attached to the key ring. He holds still, and I turn the label over.   
  
_It has my name on it._  
  
My lips break into a smile.   
  
“Tom, are these… Do you want me to move in?”  
  
He nods, the keys clanking as his head bobs, his eyebrows raised a little, hopeful, waiting for my reaction.  
  
I nod. I nod. Yes. _Yes_.  
  
He grins and makes a mewling sound, and I reach to take the keys form his mouth. He pulls back a little, tugging the keys away from me playfully, crawling back a little on the bed.  
  
“Hey!” I mumble, and push the duvet covers down towards my waist as I begin to sit up.  
  
And that’s when he drops this keys from his mouth to the bed covers, his eyes wide, mouth agape.  
  
I furrow my brow in confusion and look down.   
  
Just my boobs.  
  
?  
  
Oh.  
  
 _Pet_ Tom has never seen me like this before.  
  
I blink back at him, and gingerly raise the duvet to cover my chest, my cheeks flushing under his gaze.  
  
He watches me intently, and begins to crawl over me, sniffing at the bed covers over me here and there, his nose trailing up to my collarbones. I pet his hair, and he looks up at me briefly to give me a wink.  
  
He then lowers his mouth to the top of the bed cover, tugging at it firmly with his teeth, trying to make it uncover me, but I wrap my arms tight around it to stop him.   
  
Oh how I _love_ playing with him.  
  
He huffs and sniffs, clambering over to the side of me, nudging the top of his head against my side, trying to nudge down the duvet there.   
  
I can’t help but giggle. If he’s like this about my boobs, what will he be like when he sees me naked?  
  
“Okay buddy, okay…,” I loosen my grip on the covers and watch with a laugh as his head dips under the duvet, roaming, making the covers shift. I hear a muffled yelp.  
  
“You okay in there?” I chuckle, and pull the covers down to expose his head as well as my torso.  
  
He crouches next to me, his face resting on my rib cage, his eyes flitting from my face to my breast in front of him. He sniffs, loudly.  
  
“You can touch it, if you want,” I say carefully, and reach down to stroke the soft hairs along the side of his face.   
  
He peeks at me, frowning slightly, then shifts until his nose is directly above my nipple, little bursts of warm breath tickling against my skin.  
  
I swallow, and he nudges at my nipple with the tip of his nose, pushing it down, then watching as it springs back up again as he takes his nose away. I smile.   
  
He then nudges the underside of my breast with his nose, making my flesh wobble, and he grunts happily. He takes some of my flesh in his teeth and bites gently at me there, making me gasp.  
  
He then stares at my nipple, and pants, thinking.  
  
He then carefully moves his lips towards my sensitive bundle of nerves, and tentatively holds it between his teeth.  
  
I catch my breath, my core clenching, and feel my chest push up into his mouth a little.  
  
He tugs at me, so lightly, and I squeal inside.  
  
“Oh god, Tom,” I murmur, my arms falling back over my head.  
  
He simply sniffs, my nipple still delicately between his teeth. He skims them back and forth across my nipple, and _this_ time I squeal out loud.  
  
He squeezes my nipple a little with his teeth, feeling like a light pinch, then lets it go, before quickly lapping at it with his smooth flat tongue. My sensitive flesh slides contentedly across his dexterous muscle.  
  
His eyes gaze at me, then shift to my other nipple, and his head turns a little, curiosity clear on his face. He closes his eyes and gives my pleasured nipple a chaste kiss, then crawls over to attend to the other.  
  
I listen to the soft suckling noises he makes, and run my fingers along his collar. He peeks up at me, briefly, before dipping his eyes again to concentrate on teasing my nipple with his lips, tongue, and teeth.  
  
I think he’s found his new favourite toys.


	18. Chapter 18

Cheekily, I begin to lower the bed covers even further down my body, past my hips, and Tom notices, his attention shifting from my breast to the moving duvet, then to the swathe of skin newly exposed.  
  
He sniffs at my ribs, then along to my bellybutton. He starts to nuzzle his nose into it, making me giggle. The soft hairs of his goatee tickle against my belly, and I stroke his cheek.

  
  
He shifts and pokes my belly button with his quick tongue. My stomach contracts in shock and I curl up, giggling. He chuckles against my belly, then growls darkly, sniffing loudly.  
  
He sniffs urgently at my belly, then across my hips, following the scent trail, until his nose finds the first few strands of hair at the top of my crotch. He nuzzles his nose against them, and starts to edge the duvet even lower, exposing more of my hairs, sniffing forcefully as he goes.  
  
His arms, spread and bent at the elbows, steady him either side of my hips as he begins to sniff and nudge at my crotch, wholly engrossed in his exploration. I watch, my mouth open, as he nuzzles the top of my folds with his nose, humming happily.  
  
 _Oh god oh god, it can’t even be 8.30am yet and I’m this horny_  
  
He shoves the duvet yet further down with a forceful nudge of his head, exposing me to the warm morning air. I shift my legs a little, twitching in anticipation, and watch as he lowers his lips to taste me.  
  
And it’s like watching him lap at a bowl of milk - possessively angling himself over me, his gaze focused on drinking from me, making wet lapping sounds quietly as his tongue makes small quick movements over my skin.   
  
It’s almost too much to keep watching. And yet I can’t stop.  
  
Unlike the Tom of last night, _this_ Tom does not hold me in place, instead simply letting his tongue be the only part of him to touch me. All my sensations are centred around his tongue slowly trailing along me, delicately, tenderly, and the rest of my body writhes.  
  
“Tom,” I garble, and he looks up at me, watching my reactions, then continues, his tongue making a small point to dip inside of me. I scream, and he murmurs, retracting his tongue smoothly out of me.  
  
A chain of expletives run through my mind.  
  
He pulls away, and I pant, exasperated by the loss of contact. He then sits back on his heels, exposing his very enlarged length, which bobs proudly in the air.   
  
He licks his lips, and gives a contented little growl. He locks eyes on me, then looks down at his erection, blinking at it.  
  
The corner of my lips twitch into a smile.  
  
“Tom…,” I coo, and start to sit up.   
  
He sniffs, his head still lowered, his penis moving as he contracts his abs.  
  
I carefully reach my hand to touch it. He has me under his spell. Even though _this_ was inside of me only last night, with him as Pet Tom now I feel as if I’m touching it for the first time.  
  
I let my fingers gently slide under the tip of him, and he whimpers quietly. _Damn his skin is so soft there._  
  
I stroke my palm along him, from the root to the tip, petting him, and he begins to push himself into my hands, wanting more.  
  
I begin to slowly pump at him, marvelling at the feeling of his firmness as it moves with his velvety skin, and he purrs, leaning forward, his face next to mine, resting his head on my shoulder.  
  
“Lie down,” I whisper, and he looks at me with wide eyes. I pat the empty space next to me on the mattress and repeat my words.  
  
He crawls onto all fours gingerly, moving beside me, then turns and settles on his back, blinking up at me with a coy smile.  
  
“Good boy,” I coo, and let my hands wander across his soft skin. I stroke along his chest, letting my palms graze over his small puckered nipples. He sniffles, watching me intently. I let my fingers wonder down over his abs, feeling the muscles just under the surface of his smooth skin. I then shift to straddle him, my knees either side of his thighs, my crotch below his. He looks surprised, or at least is playing up to look surprised, and mewls softly.  
  
I glide my hands along his arms, pulling them up to lie flatly above his head, and gently press his wrists into the pillow. He blinks up at me, mock-fear on his face, and I bite my lip.  
  
“ _My_ pet,” I say in a low voice, and he sniffs, his piercing blue eyes blazing.  
  
“Such a good, good pet,” I whisper, and lean down to kiss him softly on the lips. He moans into my mouth, and I feel his hands pressing against mine. I press down as firmly as I can, knowing that if he wanted to he could easily push my hands away.  
  
Breathlessly I break our kiss, and he keeps his face near mine, his eyes flitting from my lips to my eyes.  
  
I bite my lip, and raise up, my hands still pinning his down, yet also almost kneeling upright.   
  
I hum, gazing down at his body spread before me. His scent, his muscles, his gaze, his masculine strength all make me feel spectacularly feminine.  
  
“All the things I could do to you…,” I muse, and start to rock my hips, undulating them side to side, winding my body above him.  
  
He makes a small whimper, and I release his hands.  
  
He begins to reach up towards my breasts, but I stop him, catching his wrists in my hands again.  
  
“No,” I whisper, and he sniffs emphatically.  
  
“I want you to watch,” I say softly, and he relaxes his arms back down.  
  
I cock my head to one side, pulling my hair behind my ear, and cup one of my breasts in my hands.  
  
“You like these, do you?” I ask innocently, watching his lips part before he swallows, his eyes trying not to stare.  
  
“So soft, and full…,” I feel so brazen as I tweak my nipple, letting my head roll back for a moment. I feel him shift under me, and quickly look to see him almost sitting up, his face nearing my other breast.  
  
I push his shoulders slightly. “Bad boy,” I snarl, and he softly yelps, his eyes pleading, trying to lower his nose to at least sniff my skin.  
  
“What am I to do with you…,” I trail my fingers across his lips, and he swiftly takes one into his mouth, laving at it with his smooth tongue.  
  
I tut at him, then lower him back down onto the mattress.  
  
I then start to kiss and nip at his throat, my lips working their way down across his collarbones, the firm plates of his chest, nibbling at his ribs, my hair trailing across his skin. I feel his body writhe under my touch, hearing his limbs shifting against the sheet below.   
  
“All mine…all perfectly mine,” I whisper and press small kisses along the soft hairs that lead from his belly button to his groin. He penis arches close to my throat.  
  
I look up at him, watching his body ripple, the muscles in his arms tensing as his fingers strain and flex. He is panting, his chest rising and falling in short bursts, and his eyes are gently closed as he tries to control his breathing.  
  
I smirk to myself.  
  
“Open your eyes,” I croon, reaching up to stroke the bristles on his chin. “I want you to watch me as I taste you.”  
  
His eyes fly open, and his mouth opens a little more, then he makes a small moan and looks away coyly.  
  
“You do want to watch, don’t you?” I whisper seductively, and start trailing my fingertips over the soft skin of his full length.  
  
His hips push up into mine, and I hum happily as I wrap my fingers around him, enjoying the feeling of his warmth and fullness in my hand.  
  
“Yes,” I whisper, “you like that, don’t you,” I start to move so that my mouth is comfortable above the tip of his length.  
  
He arches his back a little, his eyes flitting down to peek at me, then he whips his head to the side, almost burying it into his raised bicep.  
  
On my knees, I arch my back, sticking my booty up in the air, and start to lower my lips towards his penis.  
  
I whisper against it. “So long, just for me,” and dart my tongue out to flicker across the head, gliding softly across the little slit, tasting his pre-cum. He makes little snuffling sounds, and I lave at the smooth skin around the head, curling my tongue. He tastes of warmth, of the scent of his skin that I love so well, a little bit of me, and the texture of his smooth skin next to my tongue makes me hungry for more. The skin of his head feels just like the skin of his tongue, and I wrap my lips around him, pulling lightly.  
  
He gasps and I look up briefly, watching his strong body strain with arousal.   
  
I trail my fingers along his foreskin, and start to pump him gently, with his head still in my mouth. I let my tongue reach down to lap along the back of his length, as far down as I can, almost tickling his small hairs at the base.  
  
His fingers plunge into my hair, and he moans my name. I am no longer with my pet, I am with my man, and I pull him further inside my mouth, wanting him to fill me, loving the sensation of him sliding between my lips.  
  
“Please,” he whimpers, his hips writhing under me, and I start to suckle at him while my fingers trail down to his full balls. I tug at them, stroking them, massaging them between my fingers while I continue to swirl my tongue around his length. I let his member slip from my mouth, and instead take his balls swiftly in my mouth, letting my tongue lave at them. They are so delicate, so perfectly round, and his skin stretches each time I pull gently at him.  
  
He flings his arms over his face, garbling “oh god, oh god,” repeatedly as I pump at his penis whilst suckling at his balls.   
  
I then switch back to attend to his length with my mouth, deftly swallowing him almost to the hilt, and begin pumping him in and out, feeling him strain and enlarge between my lips. I then let my fingers wander over his large balls, down down to let my palm squeeze between his buttocks.  
  
With my free hand I begin tugging gently at his balls, and the sensations are too much for him. With a sharp cry he arches his back, and comes, pushing into me. I slide my lips from him, wiping his cum from my mouth and watch as he continues to spurt across his stomach. I back on my knees, watching him come undone before me with his eyes squinted shut, mouth in a perfect ‘o’ shape.  
  
He pants and looks up at me, looking utterly stunned, his eyes flickering about me. He reaches his arms out as if to ask for a hug, and I launch myself at him, holding him close in my arms.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end - no shenanigans, just relationship love stuff :)

**OC’s POV**

We spent the morning exploring each others bodies, Tom playfully chasing me, pinning me down, nipping at me into submission whenever he could.

We were lying lazily in each others arms, sated and spent, when my phone rang, the shrill tone emitting from my bag on the floor in the corner.

I hugged Tom tighter to me. “Its nothing, I’ll let it ring,” I murmured.

It wouldn’t stop, and it was irritating me. I lolled out if bed with a moan and went to turn my phone off. Yet my curious eyes passed over the screen. It was my contact for my regular newspaper column.

Oh crap. I forgot - we were supposed to be having a conference call with a couple of high profile columnists in half an hour.

I dashed home, having barely enough time to grab a cup of tea before jumping on Skype. Tom didn’t seem too upset by my sudden departure, saying that he had some prep work to do before his rehearsal tomorrow. We’d kissed and agreed to dinner later. I said I’d bring some of my belongings over with me now that I was moving in, with a grin. He kissed me enthusiastically, his face boyish and excited.

——

**TOM’S POV**

I happily settled into my chair, blowing on my coffee. It had been a wonderful morning. I was so relieved that she’d said yes! It did seem quite soon for us, and yet I felt so close to her that it felt perfectly natural. **  
**

Life was good.

As I began skimming through my notes and script for tomorrow, I began musing on how serious my feelings were towards her, and the thought of coming home to her made my heart swell. I smiled to myself. I hoped - believed - she was the one. The one I would marry. The one I never wanted to be apart from, who would be constant in my future.

_As long as she’s happy sticking around with you._

Shush, doubt.

I press my fingertips to my temples, and try to concentrate on my lines.

_History will just repeat itself, you’ll see._

Come on Tom, she’s not like the others, don’t listen to that negative voice.

_She won’t be able to handle you. You’re too much for anyone._

My palms begin to sweat, sticking slightly to the script pages. My breathing shallows noisily as I try to calm myself.

_It’s selfish to even think someone like her would want to be dragged through the spotlight with you._

My jaw clenches and my teeth grind against each-other.  I feel the colour drain from my face.

__________________________

Anxiety.

For the longest time, I have suffered anxiety when it came to relationships.

I can easily recite long Shakespeare monologues to hundreds, thousands of people, alone on an empty stage with no safety net in place if I balls it up. But be fearless in love?

Not a chance.

It had been a repeated cycle. Either women who wanted something from me, other than _me_ , or things had been going well until we went public.

Nothing kills a kindling romance than the harsh glare of the public gaze.

Countless times I had nursed private doubts through each relationship, wondering if this time, _this time_ , it would work.  As yet, I had not found someone who could safely put my doubts to rest. Until I met my current love (my _love_!), the women I had dated had chipped at my hopes of a relationship that could work.

Deep down I had always refused to give up, even when I really wished I could. My heart is too hopeful to close permanently for business. Maybe, just maybe, this time, she would be the love that lasts.

The love I had prayed for in tears at night, each time a gold-digger or a cheater or simply someone who couldn’t handle my fame had crushed my heart.

I _know_ she loves me. I know she won’t break my heart. She is gold.

That’s not what I doubt.

I’m terrified that her love will shatter due to my fame.

And I couldn’t live with myself if that happened.

_____________________

"I’ve got the nerves again," I sigh, and I can almost hear my assistant-come-best-friend roll his eyes through the speaker.

"The journalist?" 

"Of course. Hey, why do you always call her that, Luke? She has a name, you know."

"Because I know it winds you up."

_Bastard._

"Same as before?"

I think back to my previous nervous bouts and heartaches. “I don’t know,” I answer honestly. “She means a lot to me, and I don’t want to mess this up. I asked her to move in with me today.”

"And she said..?"

"Yes."

"I knew she would," I can hear him smirk. I had run that idea past him earlier in the week, and he had good-naturedly ribbed me about it, saying I wouldn’t go through with it.

As we talked, somehow, he calmed me down. Maybe just having a mate there for me was enough.

He suggested I tell her everything. About all my ex’s, all my fears. That if she was really ‘the one’ she would respond with care. 

Well, those weren’t his exact words. “She won’t be like those other bitches,” was how Luke eloquently put it, but still.

"Shall I tell her about Maggie?"

Luke muses. “She’s part of ‘everything’, isnt she? So if you’re going to tell her _everything_ , then that includes Maggie. Let this girl of yours make her own mind up about it all.”

Well that’s going to be a fun conversation.

________________

At first I felt buoyed by Luke’s support. I wrote ‘ _tell her everything_ ' on a post-it note and stuck it on the black screen of my currently disconnected computer that sat on my desk, while I ploughed through the directors notes, marking my script here and there.

But as the afternoon wears on, my thoughts begin to poke through, distracting me. I rap my pen on the edge of my desk, stand up, stretch and look out of the small study window. Everything seems still outside, no birds, a lone plane streaking across the sky. 

This feeling of fear creeps through me. I busy myself in the kitchen, rearranging the tea boxes in my cupboard based on whether they are black teas, decaf, or herbal. I then make some toast, only really needing one piece, ending up eating four. And by the time she is due to arrive for dinner I’m a mini-wreck, unable to even decide what to cook for her.

I’ll text Luke. That’s what I’ll do.

I race up to my study and grab my phone.

**She’s nearly here. What do I say?**

I wait nervously, hoping Luke will reply with a solid answer before she rings the doorbell.

Time passes. Christ…

Phone bleeps.

**Tell her everything. Man up, tom ;)**

I groan. _Useless_ …

I hear the door open with a squeak downstairs. “Tom?”

____________________

"Um," I fluster, scratching the back of my head, "could we, um, could I talk to you, for a minute, just…," I motion towards the sofa and feel a pang of guilt as I see her eyes widen in fear.

"Tom, what is it?" she asks in a level tone, dropping mechanically onto the sofa seat.

"It’s nothing to worry about, honestly, nothing bad’s happened," I begin, nodding, trying to soothe her, though my hand-wringing is probably not helping.

"I just… well, while you were out today I started to think about how much you mean to me, and how… I know this might sound… _a lot_ , I mean I already asked you to move in with me today which is a lot too, but I was thinking… I want.. to spend my life with you and…,” I shift on the seat.

Is it me or does this sound like a really bad marriage proposal?

"…and so I need to share all of me with you." _Stay brave, Tom, stay brave._

She swallows, her eyes nervously flitting to the floor then back to me.

"There’s… with my job, there can be some crazy stuff that goes with it, that we haven’t really talked about. Fame…," I shake my head slightly. I still can’t get my head around that word. "…it can be really intrusive, and overwhelming, especially if you’re not used to it. And my schedule can be … difficult. Sometimes jobs take me abroad for longer lengths of time than i’d like, and, it can affect relationships."

_Oh great, Hiddleston, now it sounds like an ‘I’m breaking up with you nicely’ speech._

"Oh, Tom…," she smiles, and edges closer to me on the sofa. I wrap my arm around her shoulders and she leans into me. "You don’t need to worry about all that. I love you. We’ll cross each bridge as we get to it."

I chew my bottom lip. _It’s not as simple as that_ , though I wish it was.

I rest my cheek against the top of her head. “I’m really scared it will frighten you off.” I whisper.

"Don’t be," she says quietly, and presses a kiss to my chest, through my shirt.

I swallow.

"For a few years now, I occasionally have severe anxiety attacks about being abandoned… by women," I word it very carefully, not wanting to scare her. 

"Tom, I didn’t know… I’m sorry." She sits up and turns to face me, looking concerned, worried.

"Not, not by you! I mean… it’s just…," I sigh loudly, really not wanting to have this conversation.

"Tell me," she says kindly, and sits upright, almost therapist-like.

I take a deep breath.

"Well," I begin, and relay to her my appalling track record. Both the short and long-term relationships. I feel embarrassed by my catalogue of errors, but her face is placid, calm, just receiving what I have to say.

"In my late twenties I had decided that I couldn’t do relationships, that no woman existed for me, so I would give up on the idea and just sleep with women for fun, no strings."

I sigh at the memory. It was not one I was proud of, or wanted to share, but Luke’s words rang in my head - _tell her everything_.

"I had got as far as working myself up to proposition a woman who was part of the crew at a wrap party, before I stopped myself."

I closed my eyes, recalling the horrific sense of betraying myself at that moment. I had never wanted to be like that. I had just had my heart torn to shreds so many times that I could hardly bare to believe love might be possible.

"I charged to the toilets in shame. I could hardly breathe.The whole idea of just… _getting_ with someone I didn’t know went against every wish, every hope…”. I look down. _Tell her everything_. 

"And so I spent half an hour at my own wrap party bawling my eyes out in a toilet stall."

I _hear_ her smile. I don’t know how, but I do.

"Tom," she says softly, "hey."

I feel her fingers stroke against my forearm.

"I’m proud of you, for doing that," she whispers. "You can’t betray yourself, no matter how grim things might appear."

"Thanks," I reply quietly. "I’ve never talked about this with anyone before. I mean, I’ve never shared my…," I hate to use the word insecurities…, "… _doubts_ with a girlfriend. Luke knows about my fears.”

God does Luke know about them. Despite the stick he gives me, he is a good friend.

"And…," _Tell her everything.  
_

I rub my palms together. No-one except Luke knows about this. He nagged me into seeing her after my last relationship ended. _  
_

_Tell her everything._

"And Maggie." I swallow. "She’s my therapist."

I don’t look to see her reaction.

"She says I’m getting better. That I should give myself some credit for that. I think seeing her has helped."

She gently takes my hand.

"I’m telling you all of this because there will be premieres, paparazzi on the street, media tours, in my future… _our_ future,  and I need you to know what you’re getting into.

I need to know that you won’t run.”

She muses. The wait is intolerable.

"Please say something," I ask, fidgeting.

"Sorry," she says, her brow furrowed. "I’m really pissed off."

I swallow. I hadn’t expected her to react like that. A familiar sinking feeling drops through me, from my chest down to my gut.

_She’s angry that I didn’t tell her this sooner. She’s angry about what I’ve dragged her into. Oh fuck Hiddleston, you arse._

"I won’t let the world and its mother get between us. I won’t let them stop me from being happy with you." She says quickly. "Some so-called photographers with no talent, and their rags that I wouldn’t even wrap my fish and chips in. Red carpets don’t scare me, Tom, I couldn’t care less. I get that it’s part of your job and I would have no problem being on your arm, dressed in a gown, or in my jeans if I could get away with it."

That raises a smile from me. I could imagine her doing that.

"I’m angry with those… _girls_ who couldn’t handle it. They should have grown some ovaries. And the others who mistreated you, putting these doubts in you…,” she shakes her head, scrambling for words. “I just…,” she sighs, looking at me, her head cocked to one side. “I just want to chop their heads off.”

We both laugh quietly at that.

"It takes a lot to phase me." She smiles to herself, then looks at me.

And she’s right. I believe her. It’s so simple, when I look in her eyes.

She’s never phased by anything. Not by when she first met me as Pet Tom, or when she found out I was actually an actor, or when I shared my anxiety with her before - my fears of her not liking me as simply ‘Tom’.

"Whatever we have between us comes above all of that crap," she pats my knee gently, breaking me out of my thoughts. "You just do what you do and let me handle myself. Maybe I’ll start dressing in animal outfits when we go out together, that’ll give them something to photograph…,"

I gulp. I can imagine her doing that.

"Just joking, you silly muffin," she chuckles and pulls me in for a hug.

"I know there’s not much I can really do to stop your anxiety, cuz it’s all in your noggin, isn’t it," she pulls my head down to kiss the top of it. "But I won’t give you reason to doubt me. And if I ever even _begin_ to feel irritated or overwhelmed by any of this fame gig, I promise I’ll tell you and we can work through it together.”

I snuggle in her arms, and she pets my hair.

‘We can become the odd couple, if need be. I’ll wear a black wedding dress to a premier, you can wear a pirate outfit, it’ll be fabulous. We can storm out of cafes and fling tea at  the paps. If your car gets mobbed by fans, let’s stick our heads out of the sunroof and recite lines from your movies to them.” She starts to giggle. “We could really enjoy this, you know…,”

I raise my head to look at her.

"I’d have to get my own back on you. It’s not fair that we’d only go crazy during my public engagements. When you’re speaking at a writing panel, I’m going to sneak on stage in a dog costume and start howling while you talk."

She bursts out laughing, the sound making me grin wildly. _My beautiful girl…_

"You wouldn’t dare," she retorts.

I growl and yelp lightly at her.

"I don’t know if I’m ready to take Pet Tom out in public," she says nervously.

"Worried I’d misbehave?" I start purring and run my cheek along her jaw, scratching my goatee hairs against her. I hear her breath hitch, her body stiffening.

"You’re right, let’s keep Pet Tom in the house, shall we," I murmur by her skin, though the idea of acting up secretly in public places certainly tickles me.

"How’s your anxiety?" She whispers, her body still. "Do you still think I’ll make a bolt for it, because some twit with a Nikon wants a picture of us carrying Tesco bags?"

I close my eyes and rest my head on her shoulder.

She astounds me.

"You’ve just painted a picture of the future that I couldn’t even imagine before with anyone else - where I can share all of this with you, this crazy, crazy life of mine.  And I want to step into it with you. No doubts. No fears."

Tears come to my eyes as I realise the enormity of what she’s given me.

"Only excitement and adventure and hope." I manage to whisper,

She cups my cheek in her palm and guides me until I face her. She softly brushes a stray tear from my cheek.

"Is that everything? Tell me _everything_. If you have any doubts, I want to know.”

I try to smile through the tears.

"I don’t think doubts can exist with you around."

I hug her tightly, murmuring my “thank you’s” over an over. And I feel an archaic pressure that was pushing down on my solar plexus, like a boot, lift from me.   
———

The clouds may return to threaten his peace from time to time, but he knows she will roar at them. Stirrings of anxiety may rise the first time they are snapped in public, the first time she goes to an award ceremony with him, the first time she gets photographed on the street without him. And she will raise a middle finger to it all, with a painted red nail, her eyes fiery and defiant, and his anxiety will bow its head, tail between its legs, defeated, broken over and over until it becomes a faded memory.

He remains her faithful companion, nudging her heart to open and open through the years, every snuffle and growl and lick a small prayer of thanks to her.   
  
He gives her something to be whole-hearted about - living life. He is a constant reminder to her to not take any day for granted. He gives her a reason to be brave. Her life is painted in vivid colours through having him in her life, as she flourishes beside him.

Pet Tom - whether it’s that side of Tom that he indulges in, for her only, throughout their lives, or simply a term they sometimes use to refer to that early period in their relationship where they both learnt how to love whole-heartedly - became something they honoured in some small way at every anniversary.

_________________________

"Oh Thomas, you shouldn’t have, this is beautiful," she carefully tries to pick up the small silver dog charm, her fingers grasping unevenly with the little blue box.

"Let me help you."

Sitting next to her, he reaches over, and nudges the charm out of the soft foam that it rests in.

"There," he then places it in her palm, it bouncing slightly.

With her free hand, she nudges the bridge of her glasses up her nose to see it better.

"What will you think of next year?" she chuckles, and he leans over to plant a kiss on her cheek.

"Forty-five years of Pet Tom," he says gruffly, scarcely believing himself that it had been that long. His hearing might be going to pot, and he doesn’t like to walk alone late at night, but in his heart he still felt 32.

She raises her hand slowly and lays her palm on his head, the thin, sparse silver hairs tickling a little under her skin.

"Always a good boy," she smiles, and he presses at his hearing aid to hear her better.

He smiles, watching as she peers at the little silver dog.

"Thank you," he murmurs, to her, and to Pet Tom, the character that brought them together.


End file.
